


A Thousand Pure Souls

by TiBun



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern Era, On Hiatus, Slingphries, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/pseuds/TiBun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1,000 pure souls. That had been the rumored cure that had once given Eric hope. But there had been much more to the myth, information he had never known. Hope was lost, but fate has a prophecy to fulfill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this one for over a year. OTL Still not completed working on it but I'm near the end, so when I got the cover image for it today, I decided to go ahead and post the first chapter, anyway!
> 
> Special thanks to Princen-Scythe (DA) for helping me with Eric's accent and mannerisms for quite a few chapters.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters, I only explore the possibilities.

Cover Art By [HookFISH](http://hookfish.deviantart.com/)

* * *

 

The tree tops were afire with the brightest shades of reds and yellows in the orange morning light. The colored leaves slowly falling one by one to the green grass below when they became too weak to hold tight to the branches. The sky showed streaks of blended pinks, purples, and blues to the east around the bright orange sun.

Morning birds sang cheerfully overhead, and the sounds of small animals starting to move around the floor of the wood could be heard.

Such a perfect, peaceful morning, no one would have guessed the horrors that had happened under the stars on that moonless night.

In the shade of a large oak, the ground was painted red with more than discarded maple leaves. Pale, white skin with transparent white-green scars in the shape of vines, soft, shaggy brown hair, a broken pair of thin, wire-rimmed glasses, and a ripped suit. Green-gold eyes open wide, thin shapely lips gasping silently in pain as a gloved hand clutched the fabric of the vest over his heart; tears rolling down deathly pale cheeks.

Eric…

He’d never see Eric’s face again…the face of the one man he had longed to be loved by…the man he’d never given himself the chance to confess his feelings to. The man who’s face smiled down at him. But he wasn’t there. The brunet knew that. He knew he was alone…and yet, he lifted a shaky hand to touch that ghostly face, his fingers finding nothing but air.

He coughed again, blood painting his pale lips.

A collection gone terribly wrong. The struggles of the dying had fought back, and Alan Humphries hadn’t been strong enough to fight the cinematic records off. They had entered him, and they triggered another attack of the Thorns of Death, a deadly and rare disease among the immortal race of Shinigami.

–His _last_ attack.

The soul had won and returned to the body they belonged to and the human fated to die earned a second chance at life. One he wasn’t supposed to get. And instead, it was the death god charged with his collection that lay taking his last breaths, longing for more time…

_Not ready._

He wasn’t ready to go yet. He needed to tell Eric how he felt! He needed to see Eric—to hold him and be held once more…

Alan Humphries took one last deep, ragged breath and the light from his eyes dulled, his chest halting its movement and his body falling to the ground as still as the dead.

“ALAN!!!” A Scottish-accented voice screamed out, heavy footsteps growing nearer the oak at an inhuman speed, making the wildlife scatter. Eric, searching for his partner when he learned that the younger reaper hadn’t returned from his collection, gasped in worry beside the fallen brunet, scooping him up into his arms, “ALAN! Alan—no! No, don’ do this ta me! Wake up! Please! Open yer eyes—oh Styx, Alan!” He gasped, trying to deny to himself the amount of death that clung to the brunet’s petite form. He knew Alan was gone—but he couldn’t admit it to himself.

He had failed… He hadn’t been able to save him—He had been unable to even fulfill his promise to be there so that Alan wouldn't be alone in his last moments.

* * *

 

Alan received a small, private funeral, only those closest to him attending, except for the honorable legendary reaper who currently called himself ‘Undertaker’ who had taking it upon himself to take up the honor of preparing and laying the fallen reaper to rest. His usually rough, croaky old tone softened to his more natural, deep voice. Sending Alan off with respect as Eric, his good friend Grell Sutcliff, Grell’s newly-recruited junior Ronald Knox, and his Supervisor and boss William T. Spears, among a few others bowed their heads in grief.

“Many of our agents have been lost to us since the beginning of life and death upon the plains of existence that make up this world. Most out on the field; an honorable death caused by the hazards of our ultimate place in the world. Others of their own hand when eternity becomes too great a burden. Some as punishment for crimes, and others…” The silver-haired reaper clad in black robes paused, his reaper trademark green-gold eyes closing behind the shaggy fringe of his long hair. “Others are unfortunate enough to be taken from their loved ones by a fate far worse than any other. Incurable and unchangeable once fate rears her cruel head. The Thorns of Death. Rare as it may be, it has stolen yet another kind, innocent reaper soul from our ranks. One who never deserved such an illness. A single, kind soul worth a thousand. And yet, here we are gathered to witness his final celebration of life—his death.”

He swallowed, placing a pale, bony hand with long black nails on the coffin’s clear glass lid. Inside laid Alan’s body, cleaned up and dressed in a suit of honor. The silk lining of his final resting place covered in white lilies. His eyes closed as if he was simply sleeping.

“Alan Humphries was one of the best young men I had ever had the chance of knowing. Hard working, yet warm and caring. He helped so many. He spread love and hope. He had a special spark which can only live on in the hearts of those he’s touched…the hearts of each of you.” Undertaker said, looking at each of the younger reapers gathered around the gold and glass coffin. “And as such, each and every one of you shall get a chance to give Mister Humphries a few last words in private.” He nodded and placed a large, floppy and ragged top hat upon his head, slipping soundlessly out of the grave chamber.

Unlike human customs, deceased reapers weren’t buried underground. Reaper bodies didn’t decay. They were immune to such, as they left behind traces of decay on the bodies of the mortals they collected souls from. They also were an immortal race. So their body counts were much lesser than humans. Rather, they had a large island in the middle of the ocean of their realm dedicated to their fallen. A large white tower built in its center filled with coffins of precious metals and glass to house the bodies.     

Alan’s coffin was already in its place of honor, his name and dates of existence carved into the base. Apart from small funerals for a newly fallen God of Death, visits to the tower were limited to all but the few reapers charged with maintaining the tower, who also lived on the island with their families. Twice a year the tower would open for visitors for a week, and then close to the public once more. It was important to say what was needed at the funeral as well as the rare visits.

One by one, the grieving reapers left their parting words to Alan and left the same way Undertaker had, spiraling down to the main floor of the tower until only Eric was left standing over Alan’s coffin, gazing tearfully at the soft features of his partner’s face.

Alan had been his student, once. He’d mentored him and trained him, then he’d become his partner. He’d been there for Alan nearly the brunet’s whole adult life—only to have been hanging out at some dingy old pub when Alan had needed him the most.

The Scotsman ran a gloved hand through his long, shaggy blond hair before half-collapsing on the coffin lid, “Damn it! I shoul’a been there fer ya! I coulda saved ya!” he cried, tears forming little pools on the glass right over Alan’s calm face. “I shoul’a…I shoul’a…Alan—I loved ya. Ne’er said as much but I love ya! I’m sorry…This is all m’ fault…”

Pure souls of a thousand. He'd heard the rumors and he'd been tempted by them. He should have collected them before it was too late. Even if Alan had hated him for it, it would have saved him!

* * *

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Years passed since the loss of Alan Humphries' life, and little by little, those who had been close to him were able to move on in their own lives. Advancing their careers, letting their personal lives develop... But Eric was last to feel ready to move on. He watched as William was promoted to head of the entire British division, and he, himself, reluctantly finally accepted the position of London Supervisor. He had been offered it before, but had refused which was why William had gotten the job years before. William was a younger reaper, after all. Grell stayed where he was in Dispatch. His black marks on his record preventing him from taking on a management job—which suited him just fine. Ronald had become a senior officer once he had gotten enough years of experience under his belt. But he was the same rowdy boy he’d always been.

After forty-three years, William and Ronald had started dating, much to the surprise of everyone in the dispatch. Sixty years later, the two had moved in with each other and their fingers supported matching bands of gold. Somehow, Ronald had caught the uncatchable heart of William T. Spears, and equally as puzzling, William had tamed the wild young blond. (As much as he could. Ronald still liked to go out for drinks and a good time after work.)

Grell had adapted to modern day quite nicely. He’d cut his hair shorter, supporting a pixi-cut, but had convinced Eric to allow him to wear a dress-suit rather than slacks. Which he did on most days when he felt more feminine. He was also rumored to be involved with the Undertaker who still owned his grim little shop.

Eric watched as reapers came and went. Transferring out or failing the academy, but happiness was something that never found him. –Not that he was looking for it, himself.

“You really need to get laid.” Ronald said, sitting on the edge of Eric’s desk, dangling his finished paperwork in front of the Scotsman’s face, “You’re getting bitter and snippy lately.”

"I am not." Eric snipped bitterly, snatching Ronald's paperwork and flicking through it quickly, signing it off. Of course, Ronald was right. It had been forever since Eric could actually remember enjoying himself. Even drinking had simply become a chore to fill the empty hours between going home and coming back to work.

Looking back down at the page in front of him, the Scotsman sighed heavily. He was tired and restless, and Rhea, he needed a smoke. One gloved hand reached behind his aching head to tug at the ponytail of blond waves. Once his hair had been half dyed dark and worn in the most unique hairstyle in another life, but now Eric was a new man; changed after all that had happened.

"Bu' maybe yer righ'..." He muttered, eyes glancing up at Ronald thoughtfully. "Havn' been out fer a while..."

“Of course I’m right! I’m always right.” Ronald grinned, scratching the back of his head. His hair, once two-toned with black dye on the lower half of his golden locks, now was more uniformed. He’d gotten tired of dying it and chose to just let it stay blond. Though he’d kept the same haircut though the years.

“Listen, I met this guy at the pub the other day…total hottie, and a decent flirt until Will showed up and chased him off. Got his number though…” He said, taking out his phone and flipping through the contacts, “I’ll text you the number on your mobile. Give him a call. Set up a date. Oh! But he’s human so come up with a cover-story for your job…” sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth, he copied the number over into a message and sent it to Eric. Seconds later the man’s phone lit up and a digitalized tone sounded, letting the man know he’d gotten a message. “Just tell him that the ‘cute blond with a boyfriend’ sent you.” He winked.

Eric sighed, opening his out-of-date flip phone, reading the number Ronald had sent him, setting his phone on his desk. "I'll talk t' 'im later, thanks Knox." A small smile set upon his lips as he picked up his pen again, before setting it back down and standing, taking the pack of cigarettes out of his drawer. Now was as good a time to take his break, and so he began to usher Ronald out of the room so he could head up to the roof to smoke without hearing the complaints from his coworkers.

“Make sure you do! I’ll be checking in on you about it! Don’t forget, I can call the guy, too, and have him call you.” Ronald said as he fought being usured out of the private office so quickly. “Oh! And if you want to look cool, you can borrow my bike! Just got her back from the shop and she runs great! New paint job, too.”

Ron’s feet was finally pushed out the door and Ron turned around to look at him. “It’s okay to be happy again, Eric. Go and enjoy yourself tonight.” He pulled out his keys, the keychain decorated with a plastic mouse holding a beer. Tossing them to Eric, Ron turned to return to his desk.

Eric begrudgingly took the keys from Ronald, rolling his eyes as he put them into his pocket. "Alrigh', alrigh' already... I'll give 'im a call..." And with that, he went back for his phone before he made his way up to the rooftop of their building.

 

* * *

 

The view from the roof was the same as ever -  The bright sunlight reflecting off the windows of Dispatch's plain, rectangular buildings set out in a grid formation, with plain gardens down far below from where Eric was standing. Alan had adored the gardens, the gentle smells, the colors…the sense of peacefulness and life surrounding him as he strolled through. The little brunet had known just about everything there was to know about plants, as well. Especially flowers. Flowers had been his favorite, and now Eric had a hard time looking at such things without feeling alone.

Taking shelter from the wind on the concrete floor he took out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. Rhea, he was lonely.

It didn't even make sense! They hadn't even dated. He'd only sheltered a secret crush on his partner, hidden away deep inside so that Alan would never know…

Gingerly, he took out his phone, staring at the number Ronald had sent him. He'd become so accustomed to the loneliness after Alan's death that dating hadn't really entered his mind. If Ronald knew just how long it'd been since the once playboy bachelor had gotten laid, he'd piss himself laughing. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Eric pressed dial, putting the phone against his ear.

After a few rings, a childish voice answered, giggling as an older male voice protested in the background, “Hello, you have reached the phone of Ethan Looser-pants! This is his cooler sister, speaking.”

“Jaime, give that back!” the male voice said over the sound of giggling and the fighting over the phone. “Sorry about that.” The male voice finally said after winning his phone back.

That brought a smile to Eric's face, listening to the siblings bicker. "Ah, s'fine..." He cleared his throat, deciding to hide his accent before speaking again, wanting to sound a little cooler. "My name's Eric, my friend Ronald gave me your number... Uh, the cute blond with a boyfriend? But...yeah, he told me t' give you a ring, and uh... go out on a date."

He winced, so much for sounding 'cooler'.

“Really? Wow, I didn’t think—Jaime, get off my back or I’ll take you back to Mom and dad’s house early!”

“But I’m bored!” Jaime’s voice whined.

“Please, let me take this call, and I’ll play a game with you. But you have to be quiet for a few minuets, okay?”

“…’Kay…”

“Sorry, I’m watching my sister this afternoon since she didn’t have school today. Teacher’s day or something like that.”

Eric smiled, tapping his ashes out onto the concrete beside him. "No, no, it's fine. I got sisters too. I know exactly what you're goin' through... But yeah, how 'bout dinner tonight? Ron leant me his bike but I can pick you up in my car if you want."

“No, that’s fine.  How about I see you around…eight?  That’d give me enough time to get Jaime home and to get cleaned up and ready. I’ll text you my address now that I have your number.”

"Yeah, that's good." Eric nodded. "So... Ethan, was it? Yeah, I'll try an' be there 'round eight. Any idea where we could go? Or should I jus' pick?"

“You can pick. It’d give me a chance to get to know what kind of guy you are. And if it goes well, I’ll pick our second date, deal?”

"Deal." Eric would have to ask Ronald for help - the closest he'd come to eating out in a long time was drinking himself stupid at Reaper pubs and treating himself to pizza.

"Alrigh', better let you get back to your sister. See you tonight, yeah?"

“Yes, see you tonight, Eric.” Came the cheerful reply, “Okay, okay, I’m done, now, what game do you…” The call ended then.

Eric tucked his phone away and flicked his cigarette onto the concrete floor and snuffed it out with the toe of his expensive black dress shoe. He then headed back downstairs to the offices and approached Ronald's desk. "Knox, my office." He gently tapped the blond's desk before turning, waiting for him to follow.

“Whaa? But I just—what'd I do?” The blond groaned, pushing himself up, “I swear I double-checked all my work! I don’t want any overtime tonight! Will’s coming home from that meeting over in Italy later!”

Eric shut the door to his office once they were both inside, walking over to his desk. "Alrigh', I haven' been out in a very long time an'... I got no idea where t' take m' date t'nigh'. You know 'bout this stuff, yeah?" He occupied himself by shuffling papers, refusing to look up at Ronald.

“Wait…what?” Ronald blinked at Eric, “Ah! So the student hath passed his teacher!” he grinned and sat down, “But you know…I haven’t dated in a long time, either. Kinda passed that. Married.” He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. His wedding band glinting in the white light that filled the office. “Don’t much know about modern dating. You could try for a classic Dinner and a show—or a movie, now-a-days. Personally, Will and I like to go out dancing, still.”

Eric rolled his eyes and sat down at his desk. "Y' love showin' off tha' ring, don' y'? Jus' reassure me you an' Will ain't havin' kids any time soon, s' th' last thing I need t' be worryin' 'bout..." He sighed. "Dancin's out o' th' question, I'm rubbish. Dinner an' a movie's nice, I guess... Don' like movies much though. Where d'ya think I should take 'im fer dinner then?"

“You kidding me? Why would Will and I have kids? We aren’t all that interested. He has work up the butt and I like my freedom to go have a good time after work.” He flopped down onto the white leather couch in the office, tapping his chin in thought, “You could always skip the movie if you don’t enjoy them, and go someplace nice to eat, but something that tastes good to you. You don’t want to take him out to a place you won’t have fun at, or won’t enjoy the food because that’s what he’ll think you’re into. You want to be truthful to him and yourself with this.”

"I havn' eaten out in decades, Knox, I don' even know any places t' eat besides th' pub an' takeout." Eric reclined in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk and gazing at the ceiling as he thought. "Could always cook fer 'im, I guess, bu' migh' not be good fer a first date... Don' y' know any restaurants I could take 'im to?"

“I could make up a list of suggestions for you.” Ronald sighed, “You’re worse off than I thought…I know it's been a long time since you’ve dated, but this is kinda embarrassing. What time’s your date?”

"Eight. An' it ain't my fault, this job takes a lot o' time..." Eric frowned, pulling off his glove so he could write on the back of his hand. "Alrigh', so where would y' suggest, kid?"

“Come on, Even William found time to date me once I got him hooked.” Ronald smirked before listing off a handful of suggestions and quickly telling him what kind of food each place specialized in.

Eric noted down the places that interested him, eventually grabbing a piece of paper to write them on. "Alrigh'... Tha' should do... Thanks kiddo, I'll bring yer bike 'round once th' date's over." He looked up at Ronald, smirking. "Er should I leave th' key outside? Will's comin' back t'nigh', yeah? Don' wanna interrupt you~"

“Wouldn’t notice you if you did.” Ron smirked as he stood up and stretched, “Do I need to remind you to dress nice?”

"I know how t' dress nice." The Scot gestured smugly to his business suit, fully buttoned, waistcoat and all, tie nice and tight. "Yer not me mum, now sod off an' get back t'work."

Ronald threw up his hands, “Just making sure! You forgot how to date, after all.” He snickered, “If you didn’t know how to dress nice then I was going to sic Grell on you.”

Eric made a face at that. "I'll wear one o' me suits, it'll be fine. Grell don' need t' come near my wardrobe. 'Sides, if 'e dresses me, I won' make it in time."

“Or, you’ll be leaving the office early so you do make it in time. Not really a bad thing. You are almost as much as a workaholic as Will had been before he got a taste of the Knoxwurst! Have fun at your date!” Ronald chuckled before hurrying back out.

 

* * *

 

Eric managed to clock off early with all papers completed. He rushed home to shower and shave for his date. He put his hair back in a bun rather than a ponytail; pulled back from his face to show off his ruggedly handsome features. Goatee trimmed and suited up, the Scotsman rode Ronald's bike to the address Ethan had given him.

He couldn't help but feel a wee bit anxious, hesitating in front of the door before knocking twice, waiting for an answer.

“Coming!” Called out the same voice from the phone call on Eric’s smoke break. Moments later, the door swung inwards and Eric was met with a smile. Long dark hair fell in waves around a heart-shaped face and tickled at the back of his neck. His skin a dark brown, eyes a striking honey color. He stood tall, only a few inches shorter than Eric, but still likely taller than William was. He wore a nice blue button-up shirt and black slacks, a black tie hanging untied under the collar.

“You must be Eric.” He grinned, stepping aside, “Come on in, I was just struggling with this tie…” he walked over to a mirror hanging on the wall of his apartment, trying and failing to tie the silk tie over and over again. Each time the small end would be too long or the knot would look a messy tangle.

“Sorry about the mess.” His apartment was rather plain. White walls, tan carpet, and mismatched furniture. The coffee table was cluttered with things, but otherwise the room looked clean.

Eric smiled, making his way inside, clearing his throat before speaking. "Nice to meet you, Ethan. And your place looks lovely... My 'partment's a mess." He chuckled, gazing around with his hands in his pockets. "D'ya want a hand with your tie? It's no trouble. I wear suits all th' time so I got pretty good at tie-tyin'."

“I’m used to clip-on ties.” Ethan admitted, turning from the mirror and nodding to accept the help, “But all my clip-ons are for my work uniforms. This one had been a gift from my mother when I graduated college…” he laughed, nervously, “Too bad there was no classes on how to tie ties!”

Eric took the tie into his hands, gently running his thumb across the silk fabric before tying it into a Windsor knot and tightening it against Ethan's neck. "Your mum has nice taste in ties. I don't know if any of mine are this nice."

He chuckled, taking a small step back, self-consciously checking his bun was still in place. "So uh, ready t' go then? Our reservation's at half-past."

“Yes, please. I’m starved.” He nodded, grabbing a black leather jacket off the back of a chair and pulling it on and checking to make sure he had his wallet.

Eric held the door open for Ethan, gesturing out to Ronald's awaiting bike, the new paintjob glistening under a streetlamp. "We're going to this nice Japanese place... I never been there, bu' Ron said it was good. Been a while since I've been out to dinner..."

“Are you his older brother?” Ethan asked, zipping his jacket up.

"Nah, jus' good mates. We known each other fer a long time. He's like my brother..." Eric chuckled, relaxing and letting his accent start to slip through.

“Oh, well, you look similar…hair and eyes, I mean. And with how he set us up, and lent you his bike and suggested a place to eat…seemed brotherly… But are you from Scotland? I don’t remember hearing that accent on the phone.”

"Well, 'e just wants me t' get out more." Eric shrugged. "An' yeah, I am from Scotland. I don' use my accent on th' phone, usually... makes it 'ard t' understand me. Friend o' mine said it makes me sound like an idiot." He got on the bike, putting his helmet on and offering his date the spare. "Climb on behind me."

Ethan nodded and hopped on back, making himself comfortable and slipping his arms around Eric’s middle, “Okay, ready.” He smiled.

Eric revved up the bike and sped of down the street. Ethan's arms felt warm around him, and he felt safe in his embrace. He may have only been a mortal, and may have only been holding on to stop himself from falling off, but Eric loved every moment of their trip before pulling up in front of the restaurant Ronald had recommended, parking the bike neatly.

"Ah, smells good..." He smiled, pulling his helmet off and checking his hair. "Hungry?"

“Very.” Ethan nodded.

Together, they entered the restaurant and were seated at their table quickly. After taking a moment to look over the menu, they ordered and were left to talk amongst themselves as they waited for their dishes.

“So what kind of work do you do?” The young man asked Eric as he took a sip of his drink.

Eric set down his glass, quickly thinking up an alternate for his real job, suddenly coming to a reasonable conclusion. "I work as a manager at a gardenin' tool producer. I run our testin' department. Chainsaws, lawnmowers, tha' kinda thing." He grinned, sipping his drink.

"Wha' bout you?"

“I’m a cop.” He smiled, “I worked as a part-time security guard through school, and when I graduated I chose to pursue a job in law enforcement.”

"Oh? Nice." He grinned. "Pretty cool job, I guess. Better than management - Paperwork up t' the eyeballs."

“I get quite a bit of that, too.” He chuckled, “Most boring part of any job.”

"Yeah... I miss bein' on th' field... I was on saws, cuttin' trees. Got me pretty built." He chuckled, smiling as their meal was brought over. The smile soon faded when all that was on the plate was raw fish. "Wha' is this crap? Wha' did Ron send me to? This ain't dinner, they ain't cooked it!"

“You ordered a sushi platter.” Ethan laughed, picking up a pair of chopsticks, “It may not be cooked over heat, but it is prepared and safe to eat. We can trade plates if you dislike it.” He offered.

Eric picked up his chopsticks, uncertain how to hold them correctly, frowning in concentration. "How do these work? Fuck, shouldn'a picked summat I wasn' familiar wit'..."

“Here,” Ethan scooted his chair around the table to sit next to the Scotsman rather than across from him. He then leaned over and adjusted Eric’s hand to hold the sticks properly and showing him out to work them, picking up one of the sushi rolls with his own chopsticks.

Eric couldn't help but blush lightly as Ethan touched his hand. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched his bare hand as he was always wearing gloves at work. And they felt soft against his own. Smiling, he tried to pick up a piece of sushi, dropping it on the plate a few times. "Crap..."

Ethan laughed, “It takes practice.” He held up the roll he’d picked up and held it out for Eric, “So you can try it before we get you a fork.”

Eric leant over and took the roll into his mouth, chewing it. "Hm... Not bad..." He muttered, smiling softly. "Pretty good, actually..."

“Not bad for uncooked fish, hmm?” Ethan moved back around to his own side of the table and took a moment to wave a waiter over, “Could we get silverware for my date, please?”

The waiter nodded, “Right away, sir.” He said, hurrying away and shortly returning with a fork, knife, and spoon rolled in a napkin, handing it to Eric with a small bow.

"Still seems kinda lazy t' serve raw food." Eric shrugged, taking his cutlery and having some more sushi. "It's nice though, bu' pro'ly won' 'ave it fer a long while."

“It's prepared fish. They do a lot to it to make it. I wouldn’t call it lazy.” He shrugged, starting on his noodle dish.

"Yeah, still..." Eric shrugged. "Sometime I should show y' some real cookin'. S'been a while since I cooked fer anyone but m'self."

“Maybe on our third date.” Ethan winked, sipping his drink, “Second date is my treat, remember?”

"Third date." Eric grinned, taking a sip of his own drink. "So, Ethan... Tell me a li'l more 'bout yerself. Any other siblings? Favorite food?"

“Just Jamie. And I have a fondness for Italian. What about you?”

The two enjoyed their meal, laughing and getting to know each other until it was time to pay the bill and leave, riding back to Ethan’s apartment on the bike. “I had fun this evening.” Ethan said, sliding off the back of the bike seat. “And thank you for sticking to the speed limit. I’d hate to ticket my own date.” He joked.

Eric smiled, getting off his bike to say goodbye properly. "Well, I don' speed anyway if I can help it." He chuckled, unsure if he should walk him to his door, or kiss him – or what exactly. What was the norm for dating these days?

“Would you like to come up to my place for a bit? Not all night, mind you, I have to work in the morning.”

"Yeah, sure." He smiled, heading up to the front door with Ethan. "I 'ave work too, but I don' think I'm ready t' go home yet. An' th' later I return th' bike, more likely Ron's gunna be sleepin' rather than celebratin' 'is boyfriend's return."

“I didn’t quite need to know that.” Ethan chuckled, taking out his keys and leading Eric up to his door, unlocking it and letting Eric in first.

"Sorry... I uh, don' quite think 'bout wha' I'm sayin'..." Eric shrugged, heading inside, turning and waiting for Ethan.

Ethan flipped on the lights and shut the doors, “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a soft drink?” he offered as he removed his coat and shoes, loosening his tie.

"Yeah. Anythin' lemony if y' have it, coke if y' don'." Eric took off his shoes and coat, hanging them up politely, leaving his tie tight. "Where're y' thinkin' fer our next date?"

“Sprite alright?” He called from the kitchen, his head in the refrigerator as he searched it for drinks, “And I get a second date? Good to know I made a good impression, then! Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

"Sprite's fine." Eric chuckled. "An' we already decided on a third, y' gotta go in order, y'know." He went and took a seat on the couch, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt.

“We discussed it,” Ethan said, walking out with two sprites and handing one to Eric as he sat down next to him on the couch and cracked his can open, “Doesn’t necessarily mean that you like me enough to try aiming for that ideal third date, or even a second.” He loosened his tie and slipped it off as he sipped his drink. Then he popped open the top button of his shirt and put his feet up on the coffee table.

Eric nodded, opening and sipping his own drink, looking over to Ethan. "I'd like to... S'been too long since I got t' go on a date... I work too hard these days..." He sighed, before smiling over at the other man. "I've 'ad fun an' I'd really like t' do this again..."

“Me too.” The human smiled, touching the top of Eric’s hand and rubbing it with his thumb.

Eric blushed, moving to sit a little closer to Ethan, looking away shyly. "Thanks fer hittin' on Ronnie and givin' 'im yer number..."

Ethan laughed, “Well, my fault for having a thing for blonds.” he joked, “Lucky the cute blond boy who turned out to be taken happened to have a sexy blond friend who was single…”

Eric chuckled, deciding to let his hair loose from its bun, pulling out the elastic and shaking out his blond waves. "Not sure if sexy's th' righ' word. No one's called me tha' fer a long time..."

“Can’t have been all that long.” Ethan smiled, running his fingers through a lock of Eric’s hair.

"Y'd be surprised...." Eric sighed happily, leaning closer to Ethan. His dirty-blond hair was soft, freshly washed before his date, silky smooth and knot-free as it tickled Ethan’s cheek, causing him to chuckle and turn his head to look at Eric more directly.

“Hard to believe you’ve never dated before…so has it really been that long?” he asked, his breath feathering over Eric’s lips.

"I've dated before..." Eric replied. "Jus'... very long time ago... Feels like decades..." Of course, in reality it was over a century since Alan's death changed his life forever, but he couldn't say that. "I'm definitely ready t' move on, I think..."

“I’d be happy to help you…” Ethan whispered, his eyes closing as his lips brushed Eric’s lightly before he pressed them together more firmly in a kiss.

Eric's eyes closed, his hand finding Ethan's cheek to guide himself into the kiss, feeling like a novice. It really had been too long since his last kiss, and he was a little out of practice, though his lips had the lingering taste of the green tea ice cream they'd had for dessert.

* * *

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Eric and Ethan went on their second date a few days later, and a third on the following week. A fourth had been planned, and on the afternoon of that date, Eric found himself in a good mood as he worked at his desk, getting through his paperwork at an impressive pace. Rain pelted the glass panes outside his office, but the weather had little effect on the supervisor.

"Eric? Darling?" The door creaked open and a flamboyant reaper with short red hair, red glasses, red lipstick, and black eyeliner poked his head in, "We just received an important international news report, I think you should see it." His tone was unusually gentle. Grell Sutcliff was normally overbearing and loud, and he tended to only grow serious like this when he was talking about something big.

"Can I come in?"

Eric looked up and sighed, not wanting to be interrupted while he was working so efficiently. Ethan had promised him a home-made dinner, after the lovely roast Eric had made him on their last date. But Grell never sounded this serious, so he set down his pen.

"Come in, bu' make it quick." He resigned, leaning back, gesturing at the seat in front of his desk. "I have t' clock out early t'day, an' I don' need any overtime."

"If you have plans, you might want to get a rain check." Grell stated, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. He was dressed in a smart, but bright red dress suit, a broach at his neck rather than a tie. "You aren't going to like this." He added, holding out a printed news report that had obviously been faxed to Dispatch.

With a sigh, Eric took the report from red-tipped fingers and looked at it.

 

_The Missing Dead_

_International authorities were called in early this morning to investigate an unthinkable crime in the Reaper Realm. Reported to said authorities, sometime during the night last night, what is assumed to have been a large group of grave robbers broke into Cemetery Tower where they disrespected the peace of our fallen reapers. The official count of coffins targeted is one thousand. But what is truly shocking, is not that the dead were robbed of any valuables they were laid to rest with, but they, themselves had been taken. One Thousand bodies disappeared without a trace from their final resting place. As of now the investigators have uncovered no leads as to who had done such an unthinkable crime…_

 

Eric read over the paper, eyes going wide. Had Alan had been stolen? He dropped the report, then picked it up to read it again. "Is this true?" He asked, looking at Grell with fear in his eyes. "They... no!" He got up, going to the door, but then faltered in his stride and turned back. What could he do? Charging in blindly wouldn't work, where would he look? He began to chew at his thumb, turning to and from the door again before pacing around in his office in a panic.

"There is no word on who's all have been taken." Grell sighed, sitting on the edge of Eric's desk and crossing his legs, "But everyone who has loved ones in that tower are freaking out, wondering if their loved one had been taken. I hear that they are starting to riot, demanding an official list of names. It's a mess."

"I gotta go find out!" Eric was urgent to leave but at the same time powerless to do so, fidgeting as he tried to figure out what he could do. Alan had to be safe - he was finally letting go and now he was all caught up again.

"Want me to cover for you?" Grell offered. He'd assumed Eric would likely be unable to stop himself from going to that island to find out for himself. The man had been deeply in love with young Alan Humphries, though he'd never gotten the chance to confess. It was a shame. They could have been happy together had Eric just bit the bullet and told his partner how he felt. The little brunet had returned the feelings, after all. Grell was sure of it. The way Alan had been caught staring longingly at the Scotsman time after time…

"Yeah, thank you!" Eric suddenly ran from the room, bolting out of dispatch. The weather couldn't deter him, speeding off as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

Getting a portal to the private island where Cemetery Tower was located proved to be a difficult task. The portal station was over-crowded with reapers all demanding to be let through to the island.

Soaked to the bone from running through the rain all the way to the station, Eric weaved and pushed his way through the loud crowd, cursing as he slowly moved forward, but a plan formulating in his mind.

Once he got up to the desired portal, He pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge to the security guards standing watch to handle the crowd around the portal to the island. "London Dispatch, Supervisor Slingby." He said in his best 'all-business' tone of voice he could manage. "I received word from th' investigators stating they needed some more 'elp on th' site o' th' crime."

His lie worked. The guards nodded him through without question, trusting his badge. Almost smirking over his victory, he slipped passed them and joined the line of people who all had been permitted to travel. Reapers couldn't simply take an international portal at any time, after all. They needed travel papers.

Once he got to the portal, Eric stepped through, his eyes widening as he took in the even larger crowed of civilian reapers who had gone to the sunny island, demanding to be let into the tower. Of course, no one was permitted to do so, and the crowd was all being held back away from the only entrance. Reaper authorities were standing tall over the crowd with microphones, speaking in each language to tell people to return home and await further news. Orders were being issued to stop people from coming to the island at all, but the steady flow of people out of the portals were blocking the messengers from going back to deliver the messages.

Eric frowned. This wouldn't do. He _had_ to make sure Alan was safe. Make sure he was still lying within his coffin high in the white tower. His eyes scanned over the scene before him, his mind reeling to come up with a plan. And then it clicked.

He broke away from the crowed that were all pushing to try to get to the doors and break through to enter. Unseen, he hurried around, taking cover in a thick line of trees and brush as he closed in closer to the tower, coming around to the back where no one was standing guard or trying to get in. Satisfied with his cleverness, Eric hurried over to the base of the tower and leapt up to the nearest window a story above the ground floor.

The window ledge was uncomfortably thin and Eric had a hard time gripping it to keep himself up as he pushed the window open; thankful that it was unlocked. He heaved himself up and wiggled with some difficulty through the small window, soon falling in and to the floor with a grunt.

Standing up, the Scotsman brushed himself off and closed the window, looking around. He found himself in what looked to be a storage room. Shelves lined with cleaning supplies, mostly. Spotting the door, Eric made his way over to it and opened it a crack, peeking out to ensure the coast was clear before he slipped out and started running up the spiraling stairs as quickly and as quietly as he could.

"Please, Alan…be 'ere. Don' be missin'!" he muttered to himself, counting the floors as he passed them. He knew exactly which floor Alan was resting on. He had made it a point to always visit Alan during each visitor's week. He'd run up the steps countless times over the many years since Alan's death.

Hearing voices above him, Eric ducked into the room on the fifteenth floor, waiting for the group of investigators to pass.

"How many names have you confirmed?" one voice, a female, asked as they drew closer.

"Just shy of two-hundred." Came a male's reply, "There seems to be no pattern. Some floors were untouched, some are missing multiple bodies, top to bottom; it's puzzling. We are also working on trying to see if any of the victims have anything in common…a pattern to this crime."

"I just don't understand what motive anyone would have for doing this…"

The voices faded and Eric waited a moment more before continuing on up towards the forty-seventh floor.

Breathing hard, Eric burst into the room on his target floor, bending over and taking a deep breath before straightening and looking around. The room _looked_ untouched. No glass lids were broken; none were sitting open, no flowers spilled onto the floor.

That had to be a good sign…right?

Sighing, Eric slowly walked over to the golden casket that served as Alan's final resting place, a small, hopeful smile curving his lips as he expected to see Alan's 'sleeping' face. "I guess I was worried over nothin', eh?" he sighed, seeing the undying white lilies come into view as he stepped closer.

But then he frowned, drawing even closer, his eyes widening and his heart clenching painfully in his chest. Aside from the flowers, the coffin was empty.

In a slight panic, Eric hurried over, checking the name plate to make sure he had the right coffin, but hoping he didn't. –But he did. Alan's name was carved into the golden plaque.

"No—No! No, no, no! _Alan_!" Horrified, Eric fell to his knees before the empty coffin, his hands sliding up into his hair and gripping the long wavy blond locks as he tried not to scream.

* * *

Ethan sighed, pacing his small apartment, constantly glancing out the window, hoping to spot Eric's car pull up and park along the side of the street like he always did. Still not seeing Eric arrive, the young man sighed and flopped down onto his couch, pulling out his phone. Eric was an hour late, and he hadn't called or even text to let him know he'd be late. He was starting to worry.

Biting his lip, he scrolled through his contacts, finding Eric's name and number. He stared at it a moment before giving in and pressing the green call button and putting his phone to his ear, waiting as he listened to the phone ringing on the other end.

* * *

Eric, miserable, soaked and confused, was on his way home. Knowing Alan was no longer resting in peace sent his mind into panic. Who would want him? Was it angels? Demons? Would they turn the man who once held his heart into a monster, a puppet for evil deeds?

He barely noticed when his phone started ringing, too caught up in his thoughts, finally picking up right as it was about to flip over to voicemail. "Hello?" He answered, sneezing as he found shelter under a bus stop, taking a seat. He only just was noticing how cold he was.

"Eric," Ethan breathed, "Are you alright? Where are you?" came the worried reply.

"I'm... Fuck, I'm sorry, our date..." He groaned, leaning back against the cold metal seat. "I'm walkin' back t' my place, somethin' went down an' I got caught up an'... I'm sorry."

A sigh could be heard, "But you are alright, right? You aren't hurt? Do you want me to come over?" Ethan was a caring man, and he wanted to help if he could.

"I'm okay... Kinda..." He sighed. "Cold an' soggy. An'... An' summat happened, wit' someone who used t' mean a lot t' me..." Eric started to wring out his ponytail. "Could I come t' yours? I don' wanna spend th' night alone..."

"Yes, of course you can. Come on over—I'll get things ready for you." He paused, "I do have dinner ready and waiting. I'm sorry we can't enjoy it as we had planned. But you can talk to me if you need to." He offered.

"Yeah... I'll be over soon. An' thank you fer understandin'..." Eric smiled softly, hanging up, mustering what little energy he had left to summon his scythe and open a portal to the human realm, managing to land a street or so away from Ethan's.

Thankfully, it wasn't raining quite as heavy in this realm, and Eric walked slowly, so as not to arrive suspiciously quickly. He went to Ethan's apartment door, dripping wet, knocking twice and waiting for a response.

The door swung open a moment later, and Ethan gasped, "…Did you walk here? –Come in, I'll get you a towel and some warm clothes to change into." He said, letting Eric in before hurrying back to the bathroom, then his bedroom, soon returning with the items he'd gone for, handing them to Eric, "You look horrible…"

Eric stood dripping onto the floor, until Ethan offered him a towel, starting to dry himself off. "Yeah... I didn' think t' take m' car... Dumb thing, ain't I? S'been a terrible day..." He began to strip out of his wet clothes, not very self-conscious about his body and what Ethan saw, simply eager to be dry and warm.

"From the sounds of it, you had a rough day." Ethan reassured him, kissing his cheek, "You aren't dumb—just distracted."

Out of courtesy, he turned around when Eric began to remove his pants, holding out the dry clothes when Eric asked for them. Normally, he would have enjoyed watching his boyfriend strip down, watching his muscles flex, admiring the tattoos on the man's tan skin, but now wasn't the time for such things. Eric needed a comforting shoulder, not another mindless make out session.

Once Eric was changed, Ethan gathered the wet clothes and towel, "Have a seat, I'll hang these up to dry for you."

"Thanks." Eric smiled softly, walking to the couch and sitting down, rubbing his arms. "Would a cuppa be too much t' ask for? Wit' whiskey, if y've got it... Rhea, I need a drink..." He leant back, trying to fix his hair. "An' a hug..." He added on.

"Hugs I have…whiskey…would you settle for some vodka mixed with something? Or a beer?" He called from the bathroom where he was hanging the dripping clothes in the tub to dry.

"Vodka. I need summat strong, jus' shots will do..." Eric sighed. "I'm really sorry fer standin' you up, I'm th' worst..."

"It's perfectly fine." Ethan smiled, moving to the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of vodka and a small glass, "Just don't go making a habit of it, yeah?" Returning to the main room, he poured Eric a shot of vodka, handing him the glass and setting the bottle down on the coffee table before he curled up on the couch next to Eric, slipping his arms around him and holding him, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Eric took the shot and set down the small glass, leaning against Ethan. "Dunno if I'm allowed to... Bu' if y' really wanna know, I can tell y'... S'not summat I generally talk 'bout..." How much could he say before arousing suspicions about the fact he wasn't human? Or did it matter? Perhaps Ethan would care for him human or reaper... He definitely held a lot of trust in the younger man.

"Tell me what you can." He soothed, rubbing soothing circles into his boyfriend's back, "You said something happened to someone who used to be important to you?"

"There was a man... Someone I loved very much. I mentored 'im at work... He was always cheerful, bu'... I never told 'im 'ow I felt before 'e died. 'E 'ad this disease tha' was eatin' 'im up an' I was powerless... I couldn' save 'im..." Eric nuzzled Ethan's shoulder, cuddling up closer. "An' someone's been messin' wit' 'is grave... An' now I don' know where 'e is... An' I was movin' on an' now I'm jus' worried 'bout 'im... An' I miss 'im so much..."

"…There was a grave robbery?" Ethan frowned, "Here in London? Or is he back in Scotland?" He sighed, not knowing what to say. He knew his department wasn't on the case, so he couldn't ask to be put on it, help find whomever had done such a thing.

"I can' tell y' where he was laid t' rest..." Eric sighed. "An' don' try t' find out, promise? This is stuff I ain't s'posta tell..." He gently kissed Ethan, trying to soothe his worry. "... Wha' did y' make for dinner?" He asked, changing the subject.

Ethan frowned further. Why couldn't Eric tell him the name of the cemetery? Unless the man had been laid to rest in a private plot and his family was wanting to keep things as quiet as possible. "I don't even know his name, how could I try finding out?" he countered, "I made steak."

Eric decided to stop thinking about the incident with Alan, focusing instead on Ethan. He trusted Ethan to make him feel better. "I could use summat t' eat... Skipped lunch break t' try an' finish work early..." He smiled at the human, gently stroking his cheek.

"One steak and a helping of cheesy noodles coming right up!" Ethan smiled, kissing Eric's cheek once more before going to the kitchen and taking their dinner out of the oven where it was being kept warm for them. He then plated their meal and took them into the sitting room, "Here you are." He offered a plate, fork and knife to the reaper.

"This looks great~" Eric grinned, kissing Ethan on the lips once his plate was in his lap, eagerly starting to eat. He sighed happily, leaning back as he chewed. "Aw tha's th' stuff~" He smiled. "Thank you~"

"I'm glad you like it." Ethan chuckled, "There isn't many dishes I can make well." He sat down and began to eat his own dinner.

"I like it~ Y' don' need t' make summat fancy t' impress me, I jus' like home cooked food~" Eric smiled. "So long as there's meat, I'm happy~"

"Good thing I put bacon in the noodle dish." Ethan chuckled.

"I should make y' some stew sometime. Family recipe, s'great~ So long if y've got nothin' 'gainst offal." He sliced up his steak happily. "Don' see wha' people 'ave 'gainst it."

"Cultural differences," The young man shrugged, "I'm willing to try anything once."

"Good lad!" Eric laughed, "Well next time y' wan' me t' cook dinner I'll bring some stew over. Nothin' like lamb's brains...~"

"Please!" Ethan flinched, "Don't tell me what things are until after I try it and know if I like it or not!" he pleaded.

Eric laughed. "S'good though! Builds yer muscles! How d'ya think I got this buff?" To make his point, he flexed his muscles - Ethan's shirts were a little bit on the tight side, showing off his sculpted body.

"That's why I want to try it before knowing what it is!" Ethan insisted, reaching out to touch Eric's flexing muscles, "Don't go ripping my shirt, now." He teased.

Eric laughed, letting Ethan touch him, leaning in for a kiss. "Bu' wouldn' tha' make th' show even better?" He smirked.

"I have limited shirts, Eric Slingby. If you want to show off so badly, then you can remove it like a civilized human being!"

"Fine~" Eric pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside. "Better?"

Ethan's eyes widened, his cheeks heating, "…Much…"

"Yer blush is rather cute." Eric smiled, gently tapping Ethan's cheek, before settling back into eating.

"I'm not blushing." The human protested, taking a big bite of his steak. His gaze drifting back over to admire Eric's built form as they finished their dinner. He was glad he was able to get Eric smiling again.

Eric set his clean plate down on the coffee table, stretching his arms above his head, yawning softly. His muscles flexed accordingly, as well as the tattooed words in a language humans had long forgotten how to read that usually remained hidden along Eric's side. "Wha' now?" He asked Ethan, smirking over at him.

Ethan groaned, closing his eyes, "Don't ask me that while looking and moving like that." He was way too tempted to start something they hadn't even discussed ever doing. It was probably too soon in their relationship…

"Aw, yer so adorable when y' get flustered~" Eric laughed, getting up to clear their plates, perhaps swinging his hips a little more than necessary as he walked to the kitchen, enjoying the attention.

"You are unbelievable." Ethan huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the couch, "You're doing that on purpose."

"Maybe~ Bu' yer makin' me feel good!" Eric pointed out. "An' after how shit my day was, I need a l'il 'ttention an' love~" He put the dishes in the sink, walking back over to Ethan.

"You don't think it's too soon in our relationship for that?" Ethan asked, cheeks darkening even more. It wasn't like he wasn't prepared. He did keep condoms and a bottle of lube in his bedside table in his room.

"Well... I really care for you an'... Why th' 'ell not?" Eric sat beside Ethan, gently stroking his cheek. "It's kinda soon bu'... Well, I wan' to, if you want to. I don' wanna pressure you into this. Should I put th' shirt back on?"

Ethan shook his head and he took Eric's hand, "If you're wanting to take us to the next step…" He stood up, guiding him over to the bedroom, "It's not forceful in the least." He breathed seductively as he backed Eric towards the bed.

Eric smirked, touching Ethan's waist gently, kissing him as his hands slid under the man's shirt, touching his stomach gently. "Thank you..."

Ethan lowered Eric back onto the bed and moved to straddle him as he removed his shirt, soon showing off his built torso. "Do you prefer topping or bottoming?" he asked, opening the drawer and digging out a condom and the bottle of lube before leaning in and kissing Eric's neck, "I do both…" he hummed.

* * *

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

The repetitive buzzing of an alarm clock went off suddenly, filling the small bedroom of Ethan’s apartment with the warning to get up. Groaning, the owner rolled over and smacked the button on the clock to silence it. He then sighed and relaxed a moment before turning his head and smiling at Eric who had fallen asleep next to him, “I have to go to work,” he said gently, “If you promise to lock up when you leave, you can stay and sleep in a little more.”

One lazy green-yellow eye opened, looking at Ethan before snuggling closer, both eyes closing. "Or y' could be late fer work an' cuddle... S'my day off~" Eric hummed, wrapping his arms around his human lover. Waking up naked between the sheets with someone he cared for was a great feeling, one he wished to savor.

“I wish I could,” Ethan hummed, “But I can’t. You have to let me out of bed, love.” he kissed Eric’s cheek.

Eric frowned, but let Ethan go, preparing to get up as well. "I'll 'ave breafast wit' y'. Go out an' buy stuff fer stew t'nigh'..." He yawned, sitting up.

“Mind making breakfast while I shower, then? It’ll save me some time to actually enjoy it with you.”

Eric nodded, getting out of bed, not bothering to claim his clothes as he headed to the door. "Fry up?"

“I think I have some eggs and bacon…maybe some ham. Feel free to raid the kitchen.” Ethan said as he grabbed his uniform and slipped into the bathroom.

Eric nodded, heading to the kitchen, finding some eggs, bacon, and a few leftover meals Ethan hadn't finished. He diced everything up, preparing to make bubble and squeak, an old recipe his mother taught him to get rid of things in the fridge. He set the pan on the heat, mixing the diced food with eggs, not too different from an omelet.

Ethan showered a little slower than usual, feeling a little stiff and sore from their hours of rigorous exercise the night before. But he finally finished and dried off before getting dressed in his uniform, styled his hair, and brushed his teeth. Then he walked out, smiling at Eric, “You should at least use an apron when cooking naked, Eric.”

"Probably... Didn' bother." He mixed the contents of the pan before turning off the stove. "Mm... Love a man in uniform~" He grinned, looking his boyfriend over as he bent down to grab plates.

“Hmm, but it isn’t quite as nice to look at as the view I have right this second.” Ethan smirked, slapping Eric’s bare rear.

Eric laughed, straightening up and smirking back at Ethan. "Wanna go another round? I could peel tha' uniform straight off y'... Migh' need t' be punished, officer~"

“Maybe when I get off duty.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to Eric’s cheek, “For now, we eat breakfast.”

"Breakfast, you work, I'll shop, maybe drop 'ome fer some clothes..." He smiled, dishing up half the food onto Ethan's plate, taking the other half for himself. "An' y'll come 'ome t' a nice stew an' a half t' mostly naked boyfriend~"

“Sounds like a plan.” Ehan nodded over to a drawer next to the sink, “There’s a spare key in there you can use to let yourself back in after you go shopping.” He took his fork and began to eat.

Eric did the same, sitting down at the table to eat. "Alrigh', I'll take it wit' me then."

They ate and chatted happily, until Ethan had to leave. Eric portaled back to his house to shower and dress, then he headed to the markets to see what kind of offal he could find for their dinner.

 

* * *

 

It was loud. Too loud. Heart pounding and hands clamped over his ears, trying to block out the noises overloading his senses, a small brunet fell to his knees where he suddenly found himself, not knowing how he got there or where he was. People were everywhere, but none took notice of him, Cars sped past, honking horns and blasting music. And then there were all those scents. Suffocating smells choking him as he breathed. Panting, the brunet cried out, wanting everything to just—stop so he could think.

Eric was carrying a couple of bags with potatoes, carrots and some leeks, on his way to the butcher when he noticed someone on the ground. He looked again, before heading over. The area was busy, and he wouldn't put it past some humans to just ignore someone in pain.

"Hey, kid, y're alrigh'?" He asked, setting down his bags to get a closer look at the person, shouting over the loud traffic.

“Loud—it’s too loud!” The brunet trembled, still holding his ears, his soft voice almost lost in the sounds of the city, “Wh-what is this place? Why is it so loud?!”

“Here, let me help you…” Eric murmured, gently helped the small man upright.

The brunet slowly turned his head upwards to look at Eric. Green-gold eyes meeting green-gold eyes.

_…Wait…_

A small, petite form.

_It can’t be…_

A gentle, innocent face.  High cheekbones, thin lips, soft brown hair, simple oval glasses.

Eric’s eyes widened in recognition. He'd never forget that face, the one he'd visited at every opportunity since he last saw it alive. His heart began to race, thumping hard against his ribs.

—But now wasn't the time.

He couldn't help himself as he hugged the brunet tight against his chest, wondering if this was a cruel twist of fate to bring a man with that same face into his life, or if this really was…

_His Alan._

Unsure about his strength to summon a portal, the Scotsman, ran towards his car, parked in a quieter street, carrying the other. "Are you alright?" He asked, looking nervous and uneasy as he opened the passenger seat, putting him down.

The brunet didn’t respond, still holding his ears to block out as much of the noise as he could. His gentle eyes squeezing tight. He seemed unaware that Eric had picked him up and had hurried him towards a sleek modern car.

After setting Alan in the passenger's seat, Eric closed the door and went around to the driver's side, helping to block out some of the city noise. Once they were both sealed in, Eric simply waited for the man to react before he did or said anything.

Alan (Or who Eric thought was Alan) slowly realized the sounds were muffled to a more tolerable level, and he lowered his trembling hands, still staring wide-eyed at his lap before he lifted his chin and looked around.

Eric cleared his throat, but was unsure what to say. Hesitantly, he spoke, not wanting to scare off his Alan's look-alike.

"Are... are you alrigh'?" His tone was quiet. "Y' seem pretty freaked back there..."

The brunet slowly turned to look at him, his mouth hanging open a crack. He was still trying to make sense of everything, and his mind was a muddled mess.

“Where…am I?” He finally asked after another stretch of silence between them.

"London..." Eric answered, trying to keep his cool. That voice... It _had_ to be Alan. "2015... Wha's yer name?" He asked.

“Name…” The brunet seemed confused as he searched for a name in his jumbled mind. It was as if there were things in his head that shouldn’t be there. “My name….” he frowned, narrowing his eyes and looking down again.

“Lucas…” He finally said just as Eric opened his mouth to speak again, “Lucas Mague…or is it Alan?” he tilted his head, both names seemed equally as true, “Alan Humphries…which one…am I?”

Lucas Mauge was a name Eric had committed to memory, the last soul Alan had to reap before his death. He struggled to stay composed, covering his face with his hands. His heart was pounding and he had to close his eyes to compose himself.

"Alan... Yer name is Alan Humphries..." he insisted, refusing to believe anything else. "Do you remember anythin' else? How you got here? _Anything_?"

He was desperate to know how his once beloved found his way back from the dead. It didn't feel real. "D'ya wanna go somewhere quieter?"

Alan gave a small nod and looked down at his hands in his lap, “Alan…If I’m Alan…who is Lucas? Why is he in my head?” He reached up and grabbed handfuls of brown hair, leaning forward and fighting the urge to scream. Lucas’ memories were the easiest to remember. It was maddening. He should be Lucas! He wanted to be Lucas. He knew who Lucas was…he didn't know who Alan was.

"Alan... When you...when you were collecting… We think his records grew hostile and... You saw all his memories before you died... He killed--" Eric swallowed. It was hard to remain calm, and Eric leant back in his seat, taking a few deep breaths before starting the car, the engine purring to life. "Jus' relax, I'll take y' somewhere quiet t' rest..."

“…I’m not dead.” Alan said, snapping his gaze up to look at Eric. “I didn’t leave. I’m just…I’m here. I…” he groaned, feeling dizzy suddenly, “I…” His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed against the door of the golden sports car.

Eric yelped, pulling over and grabbing Alan, shaking him. "Alan! Shit!" He started to cry, unable to hide the bottled up emotions any more. "Wake up!"

Alan’s head lulled back, the only response given to the blond was a weak moan.

Eric frowned; making sure Alan was secure before speeding off towards Ethan's place and parking out front. He'd chosen to do his shopping in the mortal realm and it was closer than driving to the nearest area where he could portal his entire car back to their realm. It also didn't help that he didn't know what he should do. This was Alan. A dead man whose body had gone missing.

Eric got out and gathered Alan into his arms to carry the smaller man inside, lying him down on the couch. He grabbed a cup of water, placing it beside him before sitting on the floor, stroking his hair and waiting for him to wake up.

He _had_ to wake up. Eric couldn’t lose him again.

…But how had Alan come back in the first place?

Or was the real question…was this actually Alan? It was so easy for the Scot to say he was Alan. To tell him his name was Alan, to think his Alan had come back to him… but that was impossible, and maybe stress and the theft of Alan's body was getting to him. Maybe this boy didn't even look like Alan and Eric was just seeing things…

Eric gazed at Alan's face.

No…some place deep in his heart told him that this was Alan.

* * *

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

“Eric, I’m back.” Ethan announced late that afternoon as he returned from work. Looking forward to dinner, he kicked of his shoes and walked around to look for Eric. Except Eric wasn’t the first person he found.

He froze, spotting a young man with soft brown hair lying on the couch, seemingly asleep. Ethan frowned, “Eric? Are you here?” he called out, walking to look in the kitchen.

Eric was there, making tea. He'd only darted out quickly to get the rest of the ingredients for his stew, which was simmering on the stove. "Hey, Ethan..." He smiled guiltily, like a puppy after doing its business on the carpet. "I'm uh... sorry 'bout my um... guest on th' couch there..."

“Who is he?” Ethan asked, “Is he okay?”

"Tha's Alan, I uh... knew 'im a while ago..." Eric sipped his tea. "I think 'e's okay, bu' we can' take 'im t' th' hospital er anythin'...."

“…What is he doing here? Why can’t he go to the hospital if there is something wrong with him?”

"He's... Got a strange condition. Doctors don' really know 'bout it an'... it makes things difficult." Eric tried to sidestep the question. "How does th' stew smell? S'good, aint it?"

“Eric…” Ethan crossed his arms, “Doctors would know better than anyone.”

"Well, they don'. Not normal doctors anyway..." Eric shrugged. "Jus' let it go, alrigh'? He'll wake up in 'is own time..."

“What is he doing here?” Ethan sighed, sitting down at the table.

"He... He was freakin' out on th' street, too loud fer 'im or summat..." Eric peeked into the lounge, making sure Alan was okay. "I couldn' leave 'im... an' 'e passed out while I was drivin' 'im..."

“Why here? Why not take him to people he knows?”

"Y'know how I said there's some stuff I can't tell y' last night? Well, this 'as t' do wit' it." Eric sighed. "Jus' trust me, this is where 'e has t' be."

“That was for the grave robbery, Eric. This is…an ill man sleeping on my couch.”

Eric couldn't see a way around it. "... I can tell you exactly wha's goin' on, bu' y're not allowed t' breathe a word to anyone... Not a single soul, alrigh'? Only me an' you. An' y' have t' promise not t'... freak out too much. Keep yer head calm."

“It’s not illegal, is it?”

"No, no..." He sat down, putting his tea aside and stretching out his hands to take hold of Ethan's. "An'... promise me y' won' break up wi' me. I'm th' same as I was, jus' y'll know the truth..."

“Why would I?” Ethan asked, “I just want the truth. You’re entitled to your secrets—but don’t lie to me.”

Eric looked down at the table, squeezing Ethan's hands gently. "This sounds like bullshit but... I'm... I'm not human..." He confessed. "Neither is Alan over there—or at least 'e wasn' when I last knew 'im..."

Ethan cocked an eyebrow, “You’re right, sounds like utter bull crap. What, think you’re from Mars or something?” He was serious, his carefree, flirty smile gone. “You sound like a madman, Eric, and I know you aren’t one.”

"I'm tellin' th' truth, Ethan. I'm not... I'm a Grim Reaper, we're a race o' supernatural beings between humans an' gods... An' our job is t' collect human souls an' lead them t' their next life." Eric took off his glasses, letting Ethan see his inhumanly colored eyes. "Y' ever seen a human wit' eyes like these?"

“Colored contacts, Eric. You are being ridiculous. If you don’t want to tell me the truth about that kid on my couch—then fine. You could have just said so!” Ethan turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading to his bedroom to change into a t-shirt and jeans.

"I'm tryin' t' tell you!" Eric protested, following Ethan out of the kitchen. "This is hard for me! I ain't sposta tell humans th' truth but I trust you! Don' tha' count fer anythin'?"

“It’s crazy. The Grim Reaper doesn’t exist. It’s an old fairy tale.” Ethan said, removing his clip-on tie and shirt, “Its right up there with unicorns and dragons. I’m not a five-year-old. I know reality verses fantasy. I get it. You don’t want to tell me about your friend out there.”

"I.... I don' know how t' prove it..." Eric sighed. "Bu' Alan isn't human, an' I can' take 'im to a human doctor, an' I don' know if 'e's well enough t' move 'im t' see a reaper doctor. I can... I can summon m' scythe, or show y' how quickly I heal... Y' gotta believe me!"

“You’re unbelievable.” Ethan shook his head, “Just stop—I’ll stop asking about him, alright?”

Eric sighed. "Ethan..." He ran his fingers through his loose golden locks, heading back to the couch. "Whatever. I'll see if 'e's good enough t' portal back t' th' reaper realm an' see what I can do 'bout 'im... If I ain't back, th' stew should be ready in an hour."

“Drop the act, Eric. I’m not falling for it.” He snapped, clearly annoyed as he tugged a grey t-shirt on over his head.

Eric just ignored Ethan - he was being stubborn, so there was no point in trying to make his case. He returned to Alan's side, checking his pulse and breath, hoping he was still alright.

Alan’s breathing was labored, his skin pale, and the scars from thorns still visible under the collar of the suit he’d been put in for his funeral.

“Mmh…” With a moan, his head turned to the side, a pained look on his features.

Eric sighed, gently pulling him into his arms. Alan probably needed medical attention. That much was clear after not awakening for hours. He summoned his scythe; the saw he'd been using for centuries appearing in his hand, using that to cut a portal through to the reaper realm, clinging to Alan tightly through the journey.

 

* * *

 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Ronald gasped, smashing the buttons and fiddling with the joystick on his game controller, eyes glued to the television screen, watching as his character ran around the scene in a boss fight. His health bar low.

He’d gotten off work an hour before and had headed home, showered, and changed into a pair of jeans and an orange T-shirt He lay on his belly, his bare feet up on the couch as his body stretched out on the carpeted sitting room floor. A bowl of chips and a bottle of soda sitting next to his elbow.

“Fuck!” He dropped the wireless controller as he died seconds after the doorbell rang, distracting him enough to miss dodging an attack. He buried his hands in his blond hair and groaned as the bell rang a second time, and then a third before he finally pushed himself up and padded to the front door, “If this is that crabby old neighbor wanting us to plant better flowers along our porch again, I swear I’m going to—Eric?”

As he yanked open the door, he was surprised to see his boss and best friend standing there ringing the doorbell with his elbow. “No! Don’t tell me to come back into work! I just got home and got the smell of paperwork off—wait…” his gaze shifted down to the body in Eric’s arms, “…Wait, is that? No…but it…” he looked back up at Eric, “Is that Alan’s body? You found it? Where? Were the other bodies found? Why the fuck did you bring it here? Hey! Don’t put it on the couch!”

As Ronald rambled, Eric had pushed past him and lay Alan down, running his fingers over his pale cheek fondly.

“It’s Alan.” He stated.

“I can see that.” Ronald said, crossing his arms, “Why did you bring him here? He needs to go back to Cemetery Tower.”

“No, it’s him. It’s really Alan. He’s back.”

“I know…I have eyes, Eric.”

“I mean ‘e’s alive!” The Scotsman snapped, “An’ I dun’ know what else ta do.”

“Eric…he can’t be alive. It’s been what? A hundred years or more that he’s been dead up in that tower? Not even Gods of Death can just come back from the dead.

"Stop yammerin' 'bout an' listen. Alan is alive, see? 'E's breathin' an' e's got a pulse, I found 'im in Mortal London." Eric gently stroked Alan's hair, wishing he would wake. "'E couldn' remember if 'e was Alan er Lucia, th' last soul 'e reaped... An' 'e passed out on th' way t' Ethan's."

“You—took a dead reaper to your mortal boyfriend’s house? Are you crazy?” Ron gasped, “And how is he alive? I was at his funeral too, you know.”

"I didn' know wha' t' do!" Eric looked up at Ronald, kneeling beside Alan. "I wanted t' see if 'ed wake up on 'is own but 'e 'asn't! An' I dunno 'ow 'e's alive, 'e jus' is!"

“So you bring him here? Why not to the infirmary? Have a doctor look at him?”

"I dunno, I don' wan' 'im bein' poked an' prodded..." Eric sighed. "Should I take 'im t' the infirmary? I was hopin' Spears would know summat..."

“Will is at work and he isn’t a doctor.” Ronald sighed, kneeling by Alan's side and watching him closely for signs of life.

"Bu' 'es smarter than us..." Eric sighed, gently resting his cheek against Ronald's shoulder, needing some comfort. "An' Ethan's mad at me too, now..."

“Well, yeah. You brought a dead guy with you on your visit.”

"I know..." Eric stood then, taking out his phone, dialing the infirmary. "I'll ask someone t' collect 'im, there 'as t' be summat we can do..."

“…He still looks dead.” Ron sighed, moving to turn off his video game and take his snacks back into the kitchen.

"He isn't! He was awake fer a little bit..." He then turned away, ordering an ambulance to Ronald and William's house, describing Alan's symptoms, from the noise sensitivity to not waking up.

“You say that but I don’t see it.”

Once Eric finished his phone call, he returned to Alan's side, gently taking his hand. He was warm and soft, just as he had been all those years ago. "Infirmary's sendin' over a van, Alan an' I'll be outta yer hair soon..."

“Let's say he is alive.” Ron said, walking back in with a beer, tossing it to Eric, “What then?  What do you do? He,” The blond nodded to Alan, “is the guy of your dreams. You have been hung up on him since before I joined Dispatch. What about Ethan?”

Eric sat down on the floor, opening the beer and taking a sip. "Well... Alan ain't th' same 'as 'e was... I'll stay wit' Ethan until I know wha's up with Alan... This could jus' be some cruel twist o' fate t' bring 'im back. 'e migh' not know 'oo 'e is..."

“So you plan to string Ethan along until you know if Alan is still Alan or not? That’s colder than Will.”

"Ethan's done good things fer my heart... It's been so long since I been happy. If Ethan still wants me after all this, then yeah, I'll stay wit' 'im. He didn' believe me when I told 'im I wasn' human an' got pissed off..."

“Wait—you told him you were a reaper? You really are fucking crazy! Even I know not to tell a human what I am – whether I was banging him or not. –Back before William, that is. But still, you’re an idiot. Humans don’t take the truth of the world well.”

"I don' make great decisions under pressure." Eric huffed. "He was askin' where Alan came from an' why I wasn' takin' 'im t' th' hospital. I couldn' think of a cover!"

“You shouldn’t have taken him there to begin with.” Ronald scolded, leaning back in his chair, “You messed up big time. There is a huge mess.”

"I know... I'm a dumb piece o' shit..." Eric got to his feet, hearing the ambulance pull up outside, setting down his beer. "I'll go off wit' Alan... Thanks anyway."

“Eric…” Ronald frowned, “…be careful. Don’t get yourself hurt all over again, alright?”

"Alrigh'..." Eric shrugged, scooping up Alan into his arms. "I'll do my best. See y' at work t'morrow..."

* * *

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

“This…is impossible…”

“There is no way he can be alive…”

“He can’t be him. A look-alike, maybe?”

“A twin?”

“A clone?”

The London Reaper hospital was abuzz with rumors circulating around their newest patient laying unconscious in one of their private rooms.

Alan Humphries; back from the dead.

The news was spreading like wild fire through the building ever since the ambulance pulled up to the front doors and unloaded Alan’s body, closely followed by Eric Slingby.

Authorities had been called, and while a team of doctors examined Alan, reaper law enforcement took Eric into a private room to speak with, ask questions, most of which were answered with an _‘I dun’ know_.’ Eric had told them everything he knew; that he found him in the middle of a busy street in Mortal London, that Alan had been disturbed by the sounds, that he didn’t seem to be able to separate himself from the life of the last soul he had reaped before he died, and that he fainted before he could ask any more questions.

The police officers didn’t quite believe him that that was all he could tell them; and frankly, Eric didn’t blame them. People didn’t simply come back from the dead. But he was quite annoyed that they kept asking him the same things over and over again for hours.

“I told y’ all I know!” Eric insisted as the door to his interrogation room opened and another officer stepped in.

“Turn on the television—now! The news.” Stated the plump but built woman.

The officer closest to the television flipped it on and used the remote to change the channel to the news cast.

A reporter was in the middle of a breaking news report, images of the empty coffins found in the Cemetery Tower and old pictures of reapers long dead mixed with a few images of hospitals around the reaper world.

“… _and yet the bodies of the missing dead seem to be turning up all on their own, all around the reaper and human realms. But oddly enough, they are not turning up as the corpses that had been taken from their resting places. Every single one that has been found thus-far are reported to be very much alive, yet suffering from sensory overload. Complaints of heightened hearing and smell being the most overwhelming to these returned reapers_.”

The screen changed to show the reporter glancing down at his notes, “ _Stranger yet is that the investigating teams working on site at Cemetery Tower have reported a singular common factor of all the missing bodies. Every single one of them had been victims of the deadly illness known as the Thorns of Death. Men and Women taken from their loved ones tragically by fate. But why does fate seem to be reversing itself? Are these our lost loved ones returning, or is this all a hoax? We will have more as the story develops_.”

The room was silent when the report ended and the officer switched off the television.

“So…this is a huge thing…a thousand reapers returned from the dead…” the officer with the remote finally said, breaking the silence.

“You can go, Mister Slingby…we no longer have questions for you on this matter…”

“What do we do, sir?” asked the officer who had told them to turn on the news.

“We question Mister Humphries when he awakens and the doctors allow us to do so. And we pile together our report and send it in to the international headquarters.”

 

* * *

 

Having left his car parked near Ethan’s apartment, Eric portaled himself back and shuffled down the street with a heavy mind. Hardly even noticing when his feet took him to Ethan’s door and his knuckles rapped on the wood to get his boyfriend’s attention.

It took a long minuet, but finally, the door opened and Ethan greeted Eric with a frown, crossing his arms, and not saying anything or moving to invite him in. Simply waiting.

"I owe you th' biggest fuckin' apology..." Eric held out a box of chocolates he'd bought on the way, as well as a slightly wilted bouquet he'd bought from the grocery store. "I'm really, so sorry for tha' nonsense earlier, jus'... I'm a dumb piece o' shit an' wha' Alan's involved wit'... Ain't exactly legal, an' I couldn't take 'im t' my place. I'm sorry I lied, an' I promise t' never do tha' again... If y' wan' me back."

“My uniform isn’t just for show, Eric. I really am a police officer. Even if I were to forgive you, I can’t overlook whatever this ‘illegal’ thing is. Did he do something? Or is he caught up in something as a victim?”

Eric winced, biting his lip as he thought of a reply. "We go way back, 'es a sweet kid, don'... don' report anythin', please? E'd never hurt anyone, ever. Jus'..."

An idea occurred to him. There were measures in place, if word spread about reapers and memories needed to be altered. But was this genuine need, or selfishness? If Ethan managed to look up Alan, he'd find his death date. In fact, if Ethan did a full search on Eric's history, he'd find nothing at all. He swallowed, eyes flickering about the room.

“What is it? Drugs?” Ethan asked, still not moving to let Eric in.

"No, no, s'not drugs, 'e'd never do anythin'..." Eric shook his head. "Please jus' let me in..."

“Did he witness something he’s afraid to report to the police, then?” Ethan pressed, “Please understand you have me in a rather difficult position. You bring a strange man into my home, make up fairy tales to avoid telling me why, you disappear for hours, and then come back to tell me that he—or you for all I know—have gotten caught up in something illegal.”

"Ethan, please... I love you, yeah? I really do. An'... An' I don' wanna have t' do this, bu' I have no choice..."

He put down the flowers and chocolates, holding out his hand, a small amount of dark-colored dust appearing in his palm. With a heavy heart, he aimed and with a careful breath, the dust landed in Ethan's face. "I'm sorry."

Ethan’s eyes widened as he suddenly choked, coughing so hard he fell to his knees. With a groan, a splitting headache overcame him and his memories from that day faded away.

Eric quickly scooped Ethan up into his arms, brushing off what was left of the dust as he carried him to the bedroom. "I'm sorry..." He muttered, tucking him into bed, kissing him softly. "I am so fuckin' sorry..."

 

* * *

 

Ethan awoke an hour later after passing out from the pain in his mind, still suffering from a migraine as he shuffled out of his bedroom to find some pain killers. He didn’t know why or when he had gotten into bed, but he simply blamed it all on how crappy he felt. Finding a bottle of pills, he shook two out into his hand and he popped them back into his mouth, swallowing them dry before heading to the kitchen for a drink.

Eric was in the process of washing up, hoping that cleaning would get rid of his guilt. He smiled when he saw Ethan, drying his hands before turning to him. "Hey baby... You okay?" He asked, holding out his arms. "There's stew left if y're hungry..."

“I feel like crap more than anything…” Ethan murmured, pouring himself a glass of juice and downing it quickly before walking over and leaning against Eric’s chest. “…I can’t remember if I’ve eaten…”

"Shh..." Eric wrapped his strong arms around Ethan, gently kissing the top of his head. "You jus' came in an' went t' bed, said yer head was hurtin'... I'll heat you up some leftovers, yeah?"

“Yeah, okay.” Ethan nodded, “I’ll be dying on the couch. My head is still throbbing.”

Eric nodded, letting go of Ethan to heat up some stew, still feeling guilty. But what other choice did he have? Lying further or getting in trouble with the truth? Better to just forget the whole thing happened...

Once the microwave beeped, he brought a fresh, hot bowl of stew over to the couch where Ethan was, setting it down on the coffee table for him.

Ethan groaned and tugged Eric’s pant leg to get him to sit down, then he shifted to rest his head in his lap, “Sorry…I probably invited you over here just to sit around waiting for this headache to pass…”

"It's alrigh'..." Eric stroked Ethan's hair gently. "I'm yer boyfriend, 's'my job t' try an' make y' feel good... D'ya wan' me t' feed you?"

“I’m not a baby.” Ethan teased, slipping his arms around Eric’s waist, “I can feed myself…once I get up…”

"Poor thing..." Eric smiled, cupping Ethan's cheek. His guilt was starting to ebb away - Ethan was happier like this, even if his head was hurting. It would fade overnight anyway.

Ethan turned his head and kissed Eric’s hand before pushing himself up and taking the bowl of soup.

Eric kissed Ethan's cheek. "D'ya wan' bread wit' it? I bought a fresh loaf t'day, bakery stuff. Delicious~"

“Sure. And who knows, food may help my headache.”

"Make sure y' get plen'y o' rest t'nigh'. D'ya wan' me t' stay the nigh'?" Eric got up, heading to the kitchen. There were reports of some humans having permanent memory struggles, so it was best just to make sure Ethan was okay. He returned with a few slices of soft, white bread on a plate.

Ethan nodded, “Do you want to?” he asked, dipping the bread into the soup.

"Yeah, just t' make sure yer alright... I have work in th' morning, but if I leave early enough it won' be a problem." Eric kissed Ethan's cheek.

“Then stay.” Ethan smiled at him weakly through the pain of his headache.

* * *

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7

 “We have run every test we could think of.” The head doctor at the main hospital in Reaper London said with a sigh, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his desk chair, speaking to a room of a few privileged people from different departments. Civilian authorities, England’s Dispatch, the Higher Government, and a single reporter in charge of the story.  It had been a week since the Thorn-killed reapers all came back, and few questions had been answered.

“…And while we have not discovered the cause of his return to his reaper life, we can confirm that Alan Humphries is, in fact, the same Alan Humphries that had died back in year 1915 during his failed collection of a mortal soul. This further backs up the previous confirmations other hospitals around the world have made with the return of so many reapers like Mr. Humphries. Likewise, we also concur the fact that their genetic makeup has been altered and that the changes have been brought on by the Thorns of Death that had killed them. Mr. Humphries has heightened senses that he is struggling to get used to.”

A camera flashed, and Doctor Kendrick looked over at the reporter, “Photographs of me is hardly necessary, Miss. I have been up for too long and the flash of your camera hurts my eyes. Please stick to your notes.”

He adjusted his position and continued, “We have also found what seems to be ailing Mr. Humphries’ mental state where the other thousand returned have had no problems. It seems that in his dying hour, Mister Humphries had come into direct contact with his collection’s cinematic records and fragments of said records were trapped within his mind. Now that he is back, he is having a hard time separating himself from this mortal, and the more he tries to remember who he is, the more these fragments attack his own cinematic records, attempting to take over and wipe out who he once was and let the mortal live on in his body.

“Of course we can not allow this under any normal circumstances, and we will not do so under these unknown ones. My team is scheduled to operate in two days to separate the fragments of the man once known as Lucas Mague from him to be safely placed in the Great Library. Afterwards, we believe he will be stable enough to question and after he recovers from major surgery, Mister Humphries can be released from our care.”

The Chief of Civilian Police stood up, his voice deep and demanding, “Doctor, it is well known that none of the returned know or remember how or why they have come back to life. They remember dying, and then simply appearing in whichever part of the world they were discovered in. Would it be possible while operating on this particular returned to look at his records and see if what happened to him and the others was recorded?”

The doctor opened his mouth to answer when he was interrupted by the objection of one William T. Spears.

“That would be a blatant violation of Mister Humphries privacy and Reaper Laws forbid such actions.” William said, adjusting his glasses, “I am surprised at you for even suggesting such a thing.”

“We need to understand this situation and this may be the only way.” The man countered, and the others in the room nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. It should serve as no real harm if we were only to watch what happens after death. His records should go dead and then start back up again. If it simply shows him show up in Mortal London where he’d been found, then there is no reason to look further, but should it start back up before that moment…I agree that the information would be invaluable to our realm to know how and why this has happened.” The member of the international Government agreed. “Mr. Spears, if we are to authorize this, then you will be assigned to attend the operation as a witness to make sure that no other part of Mr. Humphries’ records are played.”

The doctor tapped his chin with his pen in thought, “To avoid lasting damage to Mister Humphries, we would have to keep it quick. No more than a few seconds of records could be pulled out for viewing. It makes the already risky procedure hazardous.”

“Then we should not authorize such a thing.” William stated flatly.

“No. This is not a chance we will likely get again. We must. I will have the proper paperwork made up for this operation.” The government official stated, “Miss Seeger, you will not run this story until after the operation is complete and you have been briefed upon the important details needing to be published. You work for the most trusted news central. Do not make a bad name for yourself in this.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Then this meeting is adjourned.”

 

* * *

 

The surgery was long and difficult; the team of doctors carefully using scalpels made of scythe metal to cut free the fragments of records that didn’t belong, trying not to cut into Alan’s own records and risk loosing some of his memories. The records glowing blue except the attacking fragments which were more purple in hue. But finally after nearly fourteen hours, they successfully cleaned out the fragments and set aside the small scythes. With the end of that delicate stage, William stepped forward and nodded as the doctors urged Alan’s records to play. The whole scene only lasted a few seconds, but their reaper eyes caught every bit of the scene that started right after the end was supposed to go black…

 

* * *

* * *

_The world as a whole, the four realms that make it up, has very few true sacred locations. In fact, there is only one. Its true location long lost to humans, ignored by Angels, forgotten by reapers, and deemed unimportant by demons. This one location  where Heaven, Earth, Hell, and Limbo merge together naturally. Where any being may enter, and when they leave, they could find themselves in a reality they never knew before._

_In each culture, people hold their own sites as sacred. Places of prayer or ritual, but all pale in comparison to the true site so briefly seen as important to mortal and immortal beings alike. The site was protected by ancient magic and the seven gods of the long forgotten past whom had taken the place as their home, binding themselves to the very bricks of the ruined tower._

_The ruins were known by many names and legends throughout history, but in it’s prime it had been a holy city, spiraling up upon itself higher and higher into the sky, aiming for the stars and Heaven above. Tunnels down below, stretching to the depths of Hell. Roads leading out across the desert plains towards the cities of mortal man, and doorways to the advanced realm of time and death._

_Now forgotten, the once grand city shared between realms lay buried in sand, it’s once grand halls in ruin. No one had set foot there from any realm since the city’s fall into corruption, separating the four races of the world forever by war and ignorance._

_But now, the silence upon the sacred space was broken, the sound of shuffling feet echoed down the forgotten halls, the magic hiding the grand tower from detection parting a safe passage to the center. The room was made of gold, every surface glittering from the light from the torches upon every grand pillar. The edges of the room had carved steps lowering into a pool of water reflecting the glass ceiling that opened the room up to the clear night skies._

_One set of four carved doors around the room opened slowly and a progression entered, feet clad in black dress shoes disturbed the pool of water as they descended the steps and waded waist-deep through the waters to the center of the room, a thousand bodies gathering in a circle, then becoming as still as statues, the water’s surface once more settling like a mirror._

_Then, a blue light shown from under the water in the center of the circle, floating upwards, breaking the surface as it took on the form of a tall woman, towering over the circle of men and women._

_“ **My children of Death** ,” Her voice sang out in a melody that reverberated off the walls in an ancient tongue known to all grim reapers. A thousand pairs of green-gold eyes behind glasses snapped up to look at her. _

_“ **Since the beginning of time, your race has been cursed. Mortal men and women, punished for the crime of foolishness. For turning our sacred garden of peace into a city of temptations for Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Bringing upon mortality upon themselves, and creating death. Creating the need of the race of Reapers, doomed to forever collect the souls of the dying**.”_

_She held out her arms and smiled, “ **Yet, despite the beginning of your race and a fourth realm of the world, you have risen up and proven yourselves. You have become so much more than death. Yet, you are still not seen as the equals to Angels and Demons as you have proven yourselves time and time again. That ends tonight on the anniversary of your kind’s creation.**_

_“ **Every one of you have unfairly suffered. One thousand pure reaper souls, doomed to die by the Thorns of Death. Fulfillers of the prophecy I set into motion with this illness. You had to suffer the test of death. You had to feel it’s embrace. And then, when one thousand pure souls have been collected, only then will the cure for Thorns appear one hundred years later along with my gift.** ”_

_As she spoke, the vine-like scars upon each reaper’s skin began to glow, restoring their souls and life force. The life returning to their dulled eyes and they, once again, became self-aware._

_“ **We had chosen the strongest demons to become archdemons. The purist angels to become archangels…but you, we have chosen you to become the archreapers. The true leaders of your kind. A powerful gift that sets you, finally, as equals among the other immortal races. Go, live your lives as you had been meant to, my children of the grey**.”_

_The glow of the thorns faded and they began to disappear one by one out of the room until the sacred room was empty and full of darkness._

* * *

* * *

 

The room was silent – stunned, though the head surgeon quickly replaced the records within Alan and began to close him up to avoid lasting damage.

Just what did all of this mean? The Returned were really Archreapers? A forgotten prophecy fulfilled? On the surface it seemed a gift to their realm…but deep down, William wondered if it was because of something much deeper and more sinister that fate had in store for them. He didn’t like it.

* * *

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a long time since William had set foot in London’s dispatch offices, and it was strangely nostalgic as he strolled down the busy halls towards his old office which now belonging to Eric Slingby. Arriving at the wooden door, he raised his hand to knock when suddenly he was grabbed from behind, arms wrapping around him and soft blond hair brushing against his cheek.

“Why didn’t you visit me in _my_ office if you were going to visit, Will?” Ronald pouted in his ear playfully. “I missed you last night—did you even come home at all?”

William sighed and turned around to look down at his husband, “No, I hadn’t had the chance to return home, I’m sorry. This whole ‘return’ thing has many of upper management way too busy for my liking.” He said, combing his fingers through messy blond locks, “Did you even try to comb your hair today? Honestly.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off.” Ron shrugged, “How did…the surgery go?”

“As far as we can tell, it went well.” William nodded, “Mister Humphries had not awoken when I left, but he should soon. I’m here to speak with Slingby about the matter.”

The blond nodded thoughtfully, “Good luck. Eric’s…kind of touchy on the subject.” He warned, “Been a bit grumpier than usual here at work, too. Won’t talk about it with me.” He grinned and popped up onto his toes, pressing a kiss to William’s lips, causing the man to scowl and blush.

“Ronald, we are at your place of work. Try to act professional and leave such things for the privacy of our home.”

“Yeah, yeah, when you start coming home at night then I will leave it for then, but for now I have to steal your lips whenever I can or I’ll starve!”

“Honestly, Knox.” William turned away to hide his hint of a smile as he composed himself and knocked, “I promise I’ll be home tonight.” He vowed after he heard Eric’s voice grunt to admit him entrance. He then pushed open the door and left his grinning husband as he stepped into the private office and closed the door behind him.

Eric was bent over his desk, signing papers he had to go over, a pair of headphones over his ears as he listened to music. William walked over to the desk and cleared his throat.

Eric took off his headphones and looked up, adjusting his glasses. "Yes, Mister Spears?" He asked, leaning back in his chair. He didn't need this distraction, but William could mean news about Alan, which he was keen for.

“I don’t know if Ronald has told you, but yesterday Mister Humphries underwent cinematic surgery to remove the foreign fragments that were attacking his memories. Despite the risks, Humphries seems to have made it through without damage to his own records, and this will be confirmed once he awakens.”

Eric nodded, smiling softly. Alan would be okay. "Well, tha's good... I tried t' help 'im when I found 'im... So tha's good... When's 'e expected t' wake?"

“Sometime today. Which brings me to my next point.” William sat down and laced his fingers together on his knee, “He will be released from the hospital within the next few days if all goes well with his recovery from surgery, and he will need a place to stay. You were the closest person to him before he died. I believe staying with you will help him adjust to the changes of the modern world until he can support himself once more and get his own place. I have discussed this matter with the Highers and they have agreed to allow you extra funds in exchange for giving him a place to stay.”

Eric wasn't certain how to respond to that. While having Alan around again would be a lovely change, these days he spent quite a bit of time at Ethan's place, enjoying the company of his boyfriend far more than his own empty apartment. But where else would Alan go?

He nodded, agreeing. "Alrigh', sir. I'll take 'im in, but I'll need t' buy a second bed... I'll get m' place ready on my next day off."

“You should also visit him when he awakens.” William stated, “I’m sure you will be a welcomed sight to him now that he is mentally sound. The doctors do recommend you speak in a soft voice, though. His sensitive hearing seems to be permanent.” He stood up and started for the door, “I will have an advance on your extra funds wired to your account so that you may ready a place for his stay. Thank you, Mister Slingby. This helps a great deal.”

"I'll be sure t'do tha', I'm nearly done fer th' day. Tell yer bloody husband 'e needs t' behave 'imself better, stop givin' me overtime." Eric smiled a little, picking up his headphones to resume working. "Thanks, Mister Spears."

“I finished dealing with Ronald’s work ethic when I got promoted. He’s your problem, now.” William nearly smirked. “Good day, Mister Slingby.”

Eric gave a small wave as William left, returning to his papers.

 

* * *

 

He finished in less than an hour, deciding to leave work early to visit Alan, before returning home to start preparing his apartment. Luckily, he had a second bedroom, but currently it was in use as a mixture between a study, a library and an art studio. Getting it ready would mean moving out one of his bookshelves and his desk, as well as his art things, airing out the room before putting in a new bed. Most of which had to wait.

He sighed, parking his car at the hospital before heading inside, up to Alan's room.

Alan had awoken an hour prior and after some routine check-ups on his condition, he’d been served a small dinner and left in peace in his quiet room, even the beeping of his monitors had been muffled to be easier on his hearing. His head was wrapped in bandages from the surgery, and he ate slowly, letting his real memories settle, and thinking over everything he’d been told by both doctors and authorities.

He sat in his hospital bed, surrounded by white. White walls, white bedding, white hospital gown…it made him look paler than normal, and with the bright orange light falling in through the window across his bed, he looked almost like an angel as Eric entered the room.

Eric smiled when he saw Alan, slowly approaching the bed, being careful to take soft footsteps for the other's sensitive ears. "Hi." He said softly, pulling up a chair and sitting down by Alan's bed. "How're y' feelin'?"

“Eric…” Though lacking glasses, Alan’s eyes lit up when they saw the familiar form of the Scotsman he’d been partners with. He set down his fork and pushed his food tray out of the way so that he could readjust his position to better converse with the man. With a gentle smile, he reached over and took Eric’s hand.

Eric smiled, giving Alan's hand a gentle squeeze. "Glad y' remember me... When I found y', y' didn' even know who I was..." He chuckled softly. "Spears is sendin' y' t' live wit' me once yer discharged... Y' got a bit o' catchin' up t' do."

“So I hear…” Alan sighed, cradling his head, “My head was a mess when I came back…I can remember that. But I haven't started making more memories until I woke up after operation…they said I had fragments of another man’s cinematic records attacking mine. I’m glad they are gone.” He bit his lip and studied the man’s face, “You changed your hair…”

Eric nodded, briefly running his fingers through his ponytail. "Yeah... Let it grow out properly, stopped wit' th' cornrows..." He shrugged. "D'ya like it? S'more practical, don' need t' go t' th' hairdresser any more..."

Alan frowned and reached out o touch the blond locks, “It…will take some getting used to…I liked the way you used to keep it…”

Eric bowed his head, making it easier for Alan to touch it. "S'not as nice, bu' I'm Manager now, I gotta look a bit more professional."

“Eric Slingby, a district manager? I’d have never imagined it. Do you wear your tie properly and use your vests like you should, too?”

"Yep. An' Spears got hitched t' Knox. Grell cut 'er hair... Spears is actually head o' all British reapers, good on 'im. An' y' should see some o' th' shit humans 'ave invented..." Eric smiled, reaching out to stroke Alan's cheek with his gloved fingers.

“We can leave the humans for later. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm me, would you?” Alan smiled at Eric. This was nice…being with Eric again…

"True. Wanna scoot over? I'll lie beside y'..." He smiled, getting up out of his chair. "Once I'm done 'ere I'm gunna get yer room ready. Wha' kinda bed would y' like? I'll be buyin' y' one soon."

“Oh…I could just stay on your couch until I get some money of my own saved up…I’m not sure if they will allow me to rejoin Dispatch. Not everyone seems very trusting of those of us who’ve returned. But I guess I can understand that…I had been dead, after all…” Alan insisted, as polite as he ever was as he slid himself over to make space for Eric to join him.

"Nuh-uh, yer stayin' wit' me, in yer own room." Eric kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket over his chair, before climbing into bed beside Alan. "'Sides, I watch TV when I can' sleep, an' I don' wanna keep you up..."

“You watch a what?”  Alan frowned, confused.

"TV. Television. Did they 'ave tha' back before you died..?" Eric shrugged. "Well... S'kinda like a movie. Er um... Watchin' a play, bu' y' don' 'ave t' leave th' house. An' y' can watch sports an' stuff too."

“It’s been a hundred years, I’ve missed a lot.” Alan pointed out, slowly leaning against Eric, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes, “I wish it hadn’t happened…”

"We all do... Everyone missed you..." Eric rested his cheek against Alan's hair. "I visited you at every chance, y'know tha'..?"

“You did?” a small smile graced Alan’s face, “Thank you…it means a lot that you’d do that…that you’d remember me.”

"How could I forget? Y' meant so much t' me." Eric gently squeezed Alan's hand. "Y' still do."

The brunet’s cheeks heated and he slipped his arms around Eric, “You mean a lot to me, too.”

Eric smiled at the gentle hug, his own arms wrapping around Alan. He closed his eyes momentarily, sighing softly.

“I’m also proud of you.” Alan said after a moment of comfortable silence, “Becoming Supervisor of London Dispatch…I know this is probably really late, but congratulations.”

"Thanks..." Eric smiled, sighing happily. Alan's embrace felt so comfortable, so at ease... He was about to kiss the other's forehead before he remembered Ethan, guilt washing over him. He shouldn't be lying in the bed of a man he once loved, separated by death... He sighed, his mood deflating.

* * *

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 9

“Not causing trouble, are you?” Ethan smirked, walking up behind Eric after spotting the man getting out of his car and walking down the sidewalk. He hurried forward, slipping his arms around the Scotman’s waist to stop him.

Eric grinned at the sound of Ethan's voice, turning to embrace the other man tightly. "Hey, baby~ Sorry I haven' been 'round much, work's been mad." He kissed the human's cheek, cuddling him happily.

“Well, you’re here now.” The police officer smiled, kissing his cheek, “And I’m guessing you were on your way up to knock on my door? If not, then do you have time to grab some dinner once I change out of my uniform?”

"Yep~ I'm gunna be busy th' next few days, gotta spend time wit' y' when I can." Eric ruffled Ethan's hair happily. Alan was due to be released from hospital the following day, and his bedroom was all prepared. "An' I can stay th' niiight~"

“Oh~ aren’t I lucky.” Ethan chuckled, “Come on, you can help me change.” He winked.

"Oooh~" Eric grinned, taking Ethan's hand, heading into the man's flat, straight through to the bedroom, eager for some action.

“Mm, missed you.” Ethan smiled, kissing Eric after they were in the privacy of his bedroom.

Eric happily returned the kiss, his fingers slowly undoing Ethan's shirt. "Mmm... Missed you too, baby..."

“Maybe…we should order pizza?” He suggested, fiddling with the man’s shirt buttons.

"Mmm, tha'd be nice~" He nodded, pulling Ethan's shirt open, running his fingers down the other's chest. "Mmm..."

“Then, you won’t mind me doing this!” The human pushed the reaper back, causing them both to fall onto the bed. His lips playfully nibbling Eric’s neck before the man had a chance to recover.

Eric laughed before moaning quietly, running his fingers through Ethan's hair, encouraging him to continue. "Yes, baby~"

“Baby?” Ethan smirked, “Let’s try ‘officer’, this time.”

"Oh Officer~" Eric bit his lip. "I've committed a crime~ Stole yer heart~ Wha' y' gunna do 'bout it, huh?"

Ethan smirked and flipped Eric over, running his hands in a search of his body as he pinned him down.

Eric arched his back like a cat being scratched, barely struggling against Ethan.

“You aren’t resisting arrest, are you, Slingby?” Ethan asked, stealing Eric’s tie and using it to bind the man’s wrists behind his back in mock of handcuffs.

"I'm already in this much trouble~" Eric grinned, struggling a little against his restraints. "Does this mean more punishment, officer?"

“Boy, you have no idea~” Ethan rubbed his bulge up against Eric’s rear as he nipped his ear.

Eric gasped, moaning softly at the sensation of Ethan's teeth against his sensitive ears, rocking his hips back against him. "Mmm, then yes I am~"

“Good boy.” He straitened up and tugged Eric’s pants down to his ankles, ready for some early fun with his boyfriend.

 

* * *

 

Morning sunlight streamed through Ethan's bedroom window, causing Eric to stir, groaning softly. His body was happily tired after that night's activities, and the last thing he wanted to do was move. He yawned and stretched, cuddling back into Ethan, opening his eyes to glance at the clock.

8:11 AM

He gasped, jumping out of bed and grabbing his glasses, trying to find his boxers underneath the discarded clothing somewhere. He was supposed to be at the hospital at 8:30! "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."The Scotsman muttered, trying to put his clothes on while his body was still sleepy.

Ethan moaned and rolled over, opening his eyes and watching Eric, “Do you have work today?” he groaned, refusing to remove himself from the warm bed.

"Yeah!" Eric nodded, throwing on his shirt. "Fuck, no time for a shower... d'ya think they'll notice?" He quickly looked in the mirror, checking for bruises on his neck.

“That you smell of three rounds of sex, have some cum in your hair, and have a hicky on your collarbone? Yes, they’ll notice.”

"Fucking fuckballs." Eric grunted, stripping out of his clothes. "Shower it is... Shoulda set th' fuckin' alarm…" He went off to the bathroom, continuing to swear under his breath.

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge.” Ethan called out, “You can grab a slice of that on your way out if you are hungry.”

Eric quickly soaped up his body and rinsed his hair, hopping out and drying off in under three minutes, running back to the bedroom to dress. "Thanks baby~ I'll text you later, try an' get out 'ere again soon." He quickly fixed his tie, walking over to Ethan to kiss him goodbye. "Love you~"

“Love you too.” Ethan smiled, kissing him back before Eric pulled away and left in a rush.

 

* * *

 

Alan sighed, leaning back against the wall and looking up at the light fixtures on the ceiling of the hospital waiting room. He wore simple oval glasses that had been sent over to him by the glasses department, and he wore a simple tan t-shirt and a pair of jeans that the hospital had supplied to him. His suit he’d been in when he’d been found had been cleaned and placed in a bag for him to take with him. His bolo tie also accompanying it in the bag beside him on the bench.

He’d been discharged, but Eric had yet to show up—and it was nearing nine-fifteen.

Eric drove up in his car, parking in front of the hospital and hopping out, running into the waiting room where Alan was. "I am soooo fuckin' sorry, Alan, I fergot t' set th' alarm an' I overslept, please forgive me." He walked over, picking up Alan's bag. "C'mon, let's get goin'..."

“Late-night overtime?” Alan asked, standing up, eager to get out of the hospital.

"Somethin' like tha'. You 'ad breakfast? I haven' really..." He shrugged, heading over to the car, opening the passenger door for Alan.

“No, not yet.” Alan shook his head, “They offered me some, but I wanted to share breakfast with you…and have something that tastes better.”

"Alrigh', I'll make us breakfast when we get home." Eric hopped in the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt.

“This thing…it’s an automobile, yes? They have changed a lot…” Alan said, sliding into the passenger’s seat and watching Eric buckle himself in. “What’s that for?”

"These days they're just called cars. This is a seatbelt, y' wear it so if th' car crashes y' don' go flyin'." Eric reached over to buckle Alan's for him.

“A safety strap? Are these things dangerous? –How do these things work?”

"Well, they can be. I'm a careful driver, bu' some people ain't so careful." Eric shrugged, helping Alan buckle up before pulling out of the parking lot and heading for home.

“Aren’t we going a little fast?” The brunet asked as they sped up down the road.

"Nah, this is th' speed limit. Little under." Eric shrugged, continuing to drive.

“They have to limit the speed?”

"Yeah, so y' don' crash int' people. It's safer." Eric smiled.

“Then why make the automobiles go so fast to begin with?” Alan asked, looking out the window and watching the world fly by. Feeling dizzy, he closed his eyes, “Doesn’t going this fast make people dizzy?”

"No, s'just cos yer more sensitive..." Eric reached over, taking Alan's hand gently. "It's okay, tell me if y' wan' me t' pull over, like if y' gunna throw up er summat."

Alan nodded and gave a little groan, leaning over and resting his forehead against Eric’s shoulder, “I should just keep my eyes closed while in a moving automobile.” He muttered, “Do you live in the same apartment as you used to?”

"Nah, I got a place bit closer to work. Bigger kitchen an' bathroom, two bedrooms. Not as messy." Eric smiled, enjoying the closeness to Alan. "An' it's high up, so it won' be so noisy for your ears."

“Good.”  Alan glanced up at Eric, “Thank you for taking me in like this…and putting up with me. I’m afraid I’ll have a lot of these questions until I get to know what the current ‘modern’ world is like.”

"Nah, s'fine, kinda cute actually." Eric continued watching the road, turning into his street and parking at his building. "At least y' didn' have t' see Ronald in th' 70's, tha' was horrific..."

“How so?”

"70's fashion was _terrible_. He came int' work with these pants... ugh, they were white an' bell bottoms, so they flared out terribly..." He laughed. "Jus'... 70's fashion was terrible. Y'd've been scoldin' him." Eric got out of the car, grabbing Alan's bag. "Let's go upstairs."

Alan struggled to unbuckle himself a moment before finding the button to release it, then he got out of the car and looked up at the tall apartment complex. “How far up are you?”

"Ninth floor." Eric shrugged, putting Alan's bag over his shoulder, taking out his key to enter the building. "S'got an elevator, don' worry."

Following Eric into the building, Alan couldn’t help but notice people starring and whispering amongst themselves about him. His hearing could pick it up, after all, and he ducked his head, wishing they would simply go about their own business. But he knew he’d attract attention for a good amount of time. His picture had been in the news reports about the returned. And he’d been warned that some reaper citizens were less than pleased over the idea of the returned.

He was glad when he and Eric finally ducked into an empty elevator and Eric pressed the button for his floor.

"Sorry 'bout th' gossip... It'll settle down soon enough, don' worry." Eric sighed, waiting for the elevator to go up. Eventually the doors opened, and he led the way along to his apartment, unlocking it and holding the door for Alan. "Welcome to yer new home~"

Inside was surprisingly clean, with a leather couch in front of a wide-screen TV, Eric's bookshelves pressed against the walls. There was a small table loaded with Eric's art things with four chairs around it, and an open-plan kitchen beyond it. There were three doors, leading each to Eric's bedroom, Alan's bedroom and the bathroom.

“It’s cleaner than your last place that I saw…” Alan said, surprised. Eric’s apartment a hundred years prior had been disorganized and dirty clothes often found their way to the floor, which Alan always had tidied up for him when he visited.

He walked over to the art supplies and picked up a paintbrush, “You paint now?”

"Well yeah... Kinda always did. I do more these days... don' go t' th' pub anymore." He shrugged, putting Alan's bag down on the couch, heading to the kitchen. "Wha' would y' like fer breakfast?"

“You never told me you did art…and you cook now? I always had to be the one to cook for us…” Alan observed, amazed as he followed Eric into the kitchen, “I…am proud of you, Eric…I really am. I know you are a lot older than me, but…it’s like you grew up. You’ve achieved so much…” He smiled and glanced around the kitchen, “I’ll eat whatever you make. I’d like to try your coo—what is this?” Alan asked, spotting and picking up an electric mixer that had been left on the counter.

"Mixer, Grell was over las' mornin' wantin' t' make y' a 'Welcome Back From the Dead' cake, an' he likes my kitchen." Eric chuckled, taking out a frypan, setting it on the stove before heading to the fridge for some eggs. "Fergot t' put it away. How does omelets sound?"

“Are spoons outdated now, too?” Alan joked, setting it down and nodding, “Omelets sound wonderful.”

"No, spoons're still thankfully in use." Eric laughed, taking out a bowl to crack some eggs into, setting that aside as he took out bacon, mushroom and onion from the fridge, dicing it all and putting it in the warmed pan to cook before adding it to the eggs, mixing it again.

Alan bit his lip, continuing to look around at all the new modern kitchen appliances, asking questions if he couldn’t figure them out as Eric cooked. He felt a little like an annoyance, but he couldn’t help it—and eventually he’d be caught up to the world on things.

Soon, Eric was dishing up two delicious, cheesy omelettes for himself and Alan, taking out forks for the both of them, carrying the plates to the table. Realizing there was no space on the table, he continued on into the lounge room. "TV breakfast. Y're gunna love this~" He grinned.

“I thought you said a ‘TV’ was a sort of…stage play in a box type thing…” Alan asked, confused, “Not a type of breakfast.”

"Well, we're gunna watch TV while we eat. S'kinda common these days." Eric passed Alan his plate, turning on the TV with the remote, turning down the volume. Some news program was on, describing a football match from the previous night.

Alan slowly sat down on the couch next to Eric, placing his plate in his lap as he eyed the screen displaying clips of the game that had happened, “It can show you the past, as well?” he asked after a moment.

"If it's been recorded, yeah." Eric shrugged. "Y' get cameras, fer videoing instead o' photos. An' y' can watch 'em on TV." The sports talk finished and the weather forecast came on, promising rain for the rest of the week.

“Predicting the future weather, too?” Alan asked, having forgotten the plate on his lap, waiting to be enjoyed.

"Yeah, dun ask me 'ow they do tha', sciency stuff. Makes me brain 'urt." Eric chuckled. "Havin' fun?"

“I’m not sure…I’m not used to this.” Alan sighed, “I wish…I hadn’t died…”

"No one wishes y' did, Alan...' Eric set his plate on the glass coffee table, offering his arms for a cuddle. "We all missed y' so much..."

Alan set his plate on the table before leaning over into his arms, closing his eyes and inhaling his scent. He’d always had feelings for the man, but had never given himself the chance to confess such feelings. He’d been given a second chance at life; he shouldn’t waste it by holding back his feelings. Once he was a little more adjusted to how the world had changed, he would ask Eric out on a date.

Eric smiled, his strong arms wrapping around Alan, one cheek resting against his hair, soft as it always had been. He couldn't help but wonder why this felt so easy and good after all these years... Then guilt hit him. Ethan was his boyfriend, not just some Alan replacement, and he shouldn't be feeling like this towards anyone but him. Carefully, he pulled Alan away, ruffling his hair. "Wan' some tea?"

“Yes, please.” Alan smiled, moving to pick up his plate again, “Do you have work today?” he asked, gathering a bite onto his fork.

"No, took th' day off t' help get you settled in. Once y've done eatin', I'll show y' th' bathroom an' yer bedroom." Eric got up, heading to the kitchen. "Figured you'd 'ave questions so I thought I better hang around t' answer 'em."

“Will you show me some of your artwork?” the brunet asked before taking a bite of his breakfast, “This is really good!”

"Yeah, sure." Eric got out two mugs and two tea bags while the kettle boiled. "I'll show y' once we finish breakfast. How d'ya like yer tea? Milk? Sugar?"

“Uh…honey and some milk.” Alan said, slightly disappointed that Eric didn’t remember. But then again, it has been a lot longer for Eric than it had been for him.

"Tha's righ'!" Eric chuckled, grabbing the honey from the cupboard, setting it on the counter while he poured in the hot water, adding in a spoonful of honey and stirring it into his tea.

“Can I cook dinner for us tonight?” Alan asked, “You used to like it when I cooked for you.”

"Oh, sure." Eric nodded, adding milk to both mugs before carrying them over to the lounge. "Tha'd be great, bu' I'll be there if y' need help. I did miss yer cookin'..." He sighed nostalgically, passing Alan his mug and sipping from his own.

“Any particular dish you missed the most?” Alan asked, “We can go out shopping for the ingredients today. Expose me to more of this new, loud world.”

"Not really... But if there's summat y' wanna cook, we'll go shopping. I bought y' noise-canceling headphones too, y' wear 'em over yer ears an' everything goes quiet." Eric hummed, continuing to eat his omelette.

“All sound?” Alan asked, “I don’t want to go out not being able to hear anything…”

"I'unno, I tried 'em an' I could still hear some stuff, so you should be able t' hear through 'em."

“Then I’ll try them…what are they, exactly?”

"Headphones. I'll show y'." He set down his breakfast, heading into Alan's room, returning with them, holding them out. "Jus' put 'em over y'r ears."

“They look like…uncomfortable ear muffs…” Alan observed, turning them over in his hand, “What’s the string on it for?”

"Y' can use 'em t' play music too, if y' wan'. See..." Eric took the end of the cord, fishing his phone out of his pocket, putting the jack in. Making sure the volume was on the lowest setting, he began to play some folky song through the headphones.

Alan placed them on his ears and his eyes widened, “Music without a live band…or a record?”

"Yeah, s'kinda like th' TV. They record it, then y' can keep it on a phone er an MP3 player." Eric chuckled.

“I don’t know what any of those are…except the phone, which I already know no longer needs lines.” He removed the headphones and looked at Eric’s phone, “They don’t even look the same as they used to…and they can play music…”

"This is an old model, even." Eric chuckled. "Ron's got th' latest. Company called Apple makes all these fancy schmacy shit, computers an' phones an' things t' play music. Phones these days 're great, y' can play games on them an' stuff."

“Do they at least still let people speak to each other over distances?” the brunet smiled, turning to eat again.

"Duh." Eric chuckled as he sat down again, quickly finishing the rest of his omelet, relaxing back with his tea.

“How about I make you roasted quail with rice stuffing?” Alan suggested, bringing up the same dish he’d made for Eric the first time he cooked for him.

"Oooh... Tha' sounds nice." Eric grinned. "Great! Roasted quail it is. So um..." He began to run his fingers through his hair, looking a little nervous. "Wanna see my art now?"

“Of course!” Alan nodded, “I’d love to see what kind of things you create.” He finished his breakfast and took his plate into the kitchen, rinsing it off quickly before taking his tea to follow Eric to his artwork.

Eric went into his bedroom, where he'd moved his works while Alan was using what had been his studio, bringing out his most recent canvas. There was no real figures in the artwork, colors mixed to create swirling shapes that had a terribly lonely feel to them. "I did this one a while ago, few months... Work picks up sometime an' I don' get t' paint."

“It’s beautiful,” Alan said, his gaze studying the painting, “But…if feels…sad.”

"Yeah... Wasn' feelin' good tha' day..." Eric shrugged. "Painting helps me cope, y'know?"

“Like how I used to go spend time in a garden?” Alan asked gently.

"Yeah..." Eric nodded, setting that painting down. "I have others though... Lots of 'em 're sad though."

“Well…maybe now you can start a few more happy ones?”

"I hope so." Eric smiled. "Would y' like t' see yer room?"

“I’ll have to some time.” The smaller reaper nodded.

Eric crossed through the lounge room to Alan's door, opening it up. Inside was a single bed, made up with fresh white linen and two pillows, beside a window with views of the Realm. There were bookshelves, and Eric's desk, set up with his laptop. "I'll move my desk int' my bedroom so th' laptop don' bother y', sometimes I'm up late on it."

“Laptop?” Alan asked, walking into the room and looking out the window. The morning light painted the city in a warm yellow, light reflecting off the tall buildings.

"Tha', on th' desk. It's... Well, it's a computer. Bu' you don' know wha' tha' is so..."  He shrugged, walking to stand beside Alan at the window at the new, modern reaper realm, growing closer to the human world, yet still distinctly reaper.

“Everything is so different…nothing’s the same. It’s like…I’m in a completely different world.”

"Yeah... Everything changed heaps. But I'm glad yer back." Eric smiled fondly to Alan. "You'll adapt, I hope..."

“With your help…I’m sure I will.” Alan said, turning around to look at Eric, “You have always been there for me.”

Eric felt the urge to take Alan into his arms and kiss him, and he had to look away, heading to the door. "So uh, Y' wanna get settled? I got some stuff t' do, if y' jus' wanna hang around in here..."

“I can hang my suit up, at least.” Alan nodded, he paused, “Eric…do you…I mean, did you or anyone of our friends keep anything of mine after I was gone? It…might be nice to have something familiar in this unfamiliar world…” he followed Eric out to retrieve his bag of the very few items he possessed.

"Well... All yer belongings went t' me after y' died, since I was th' closest person to you..." Eric looked back at Alan. "Yer old suits 're in Will an' Ron's attic, along wit' most o' yer stuff... I couldn' look at it much. I did keep one thing 'ere..."

Walking back into the room, he paused in front of one of the bookshelves, browsing before taking out Alan's old flower dictionary. It had faded over the years, but still inside the pages had their old displays of Victorian flower language and hand-drawn diagrams of each flower. "I had t' keep summat... An'... An' yer old work bolo tie is in my room."

“Thank you.” Alan set his bag down on his bed and walked over, looking at the book Eric held, “I know…none of this has been easy for you…loosing me…and then getting me back a hundred years later…The world is all new to me, and adjusting will take time, but…” he placed his hand on Eric’s, “Don’t think I don’t know this is hard on you and the others, as well…”

"I missed you so much..." Eric muttered, taking Alan's hand in his own, unable to meet his eyes. "Tha' first year, I nearly ruined myself... I'd skip work er show up drunk, I jus' stopped carin'... Grell was an angel, he'd come 'round an' clean up, make sure I showered an' ate... I jus' didn' wanna face a life without you..."

“Eric…” Alan slipped in front of the Scotsman and pulled him into a hug.

Eric wrapped his arms tightly around Alan, burying his face against his hair. "I finally got used t' life withou' you... took all this time, an' now... now yer back..."

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…if I could change it, I would.” Alan held Eric tighter, wishing he’d never died…wishing there had been a cure or that he’d never gotten the illness to begin with.

"It's jus' gunna take some gettin' used to, is all..." Eric sighed, placing a soft, chaste kiss to the top of Alan's head. "I have you back, that's wha' matters."

Alan smiled and bit his lip, tempted to kiss him and confess to him right then, but it was too soon, it may be just too much at once.

"Wanna go out an' get stuff fer dinner?" Eric pulled away from the hug, resting his hands on Alan's arms for a moment before crossing them, glancing out the window. "We might go clothes shopping too. I bought y' some clothes..." He gestured to the small dresser at the foot of Alan's bed. "I hope everything fits, bu' we should get y' stuff y' like, Grell says my taste in clothes is terrible."

“We can do that now. It’ll save me from having to get settled in twice, if you don’t mind waiting to do whatever it is you were about to do before I distracted you.”

"Wasn' tha' important." Eric shrugged, heading to the bathroom to fix his hair, given he only had time to throw it back into a ponytail that morning. "I'll be a second, jus'…wait."

Alan nodded and walked back to the sitting room to put his shoes back on which he’d taken off when he first walked in. He then glanced at the headphones, and remembering how loud things were in this new age, he took them and placed them around his neck so that he could put them on if he needed them.

Eric returned a few minutes later, hair braided neatly and his sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off a rather nice looking watch. He put his wallet in his back pocket, checking for his phone and keys before opening the door. "Let's go~"

* * *

To be continued…


End file.
